River Styx
by Vanessa Li Potter
Summary: Harry chose to join Voldemort and is now known as Filldeserp, his most loyal follower and heir. Years later, can Neville and the remaining of the Order of the Phoenix have the strength to fight two powerful Dark Lords? PreHBP. Translation of the fic by Parvati-Blossom.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** PreHBP. Harry chose to join Voldemort and is now known as Fillderserp, his most loyal follower and heir. Years later, can Neville and the remaining of the Order of the Phoenix have the strength to fight two powerful Dark Lords?

**Disclaimer:** This story and characters do not belong to me. The characters belong to the amazing J. K. Rowling and the story originally belongs to Parvati-Blossom, who has wonderfully agreed to let me translate it. If able, you should really consider reading the original version in Spanish.

**Warning: **Some chapters may contain strong language and images. Torture is a common occurrance in the dark side, please take that in mind.

This translation has been done to the best of my abilities trying to introduce readers to the wonderful story I discovered many years ago. I hope you enjoy it!

**Chapter 1**

_London, July 31__st__, 2004_

Six years had passed since the beginning of the Dark Age. Six years in which thousands of innocent people had died. Six years in which the only thing that kept the Magical Community alive was the hope placed on their heroes, on those who had a slight possibility of defeating the Dark Lord and his followers, even if it was remote… It was everything they had left.

Nobody had expected the events of the war to develop in such way. They had trusted that Lord Voldemort would be stopped and killed in just a few years, and that with his death, all the mass murders would also be stopped. But reality was far from that dream. Not only had the Dark Lord increased his power significantly, but he now also had followers who provoked as much fear as he did; followers who had no mercy and were corrupted by the thirst for revenge and power.

Nobody could walk on the streets at ease. Diagon Alley, the preferred place for shopping and entertainment for young wizards, was now often submerged in threatening anxiety, despite the presence of numerous aurors keeping guard day and night. It was the same case for any public area of great fame among the community. The Ministry of Magic was restricted to wizards who had previously proven their loyalty to the Light. Key information was kept by selected people, after many experiences of treason. Yet, nothing worked to prevent the many deaths.

The organization that opposed the plans of the Dark Lord was still the Order of the Phoenix. The old generation together with the new, one who had suffered if perhaps more. Albus Dumbledore remained as the leader, although he was not considered the most powerful in it any longer. With age, magic also decreased in potential. Even if the headmaster of Hogwarts had not lost his mental clarity, and that particular gift for defense strategies, he had stopped being the most powerful.

Other prominent heroes were the brilliant trio of aurors: Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Neville Longbottom. They were the most effective formula that both the Ministry and the Order had against the dark forces. They were always willing to take on the most risky missions, the ones that most people rejected for the great danger of losing their lives. Nevertheless, they did not fear, but were enthusiastic about the idea as, "what else was the point of being an auror?"

Each one of them had a past to fix, a history that they did not want anyone to repeat. Ron had suffered the loss of many of his brothers during the war. Neville kept having his parents in Saint Mungo, and his grandmother had been brutally murdered some years back. Hermione… Her father had died in one of the Dark Lord's first attacks after her fifth year at Hogwarts, while her mother had not been well ever since. And the three of them had suffered together the death of many close friends.

_Among them was Harry Potter_.

The Magical Community declared him death since 1998, but they, who had been his best friends, had suffered his death in 1996. The year when the beginning of the end came… That summer, the Harry Potter that they knew disappeared. His personality and character drastically changed as consequence of the death of his godfather some weeks prior. When they were back together at Hogwarts after almost three months without seeing each other, the Harry Potter that they saw was very reserved, and his face had become a mask of unbreakable neutrality. His beautiful green eyes had lost all glow, appearing dark.

During their sixth year, they noticed Harry's new obsession with school, and an increase in his grades that now extraordinarily equaled Hermione's. The girl had justified that change by telling Ron and Neville that their friend had adopted studying as a way of distraction, of protection for himself. The truth had been far from that. For Harry, knowledge was power, and it was power what he needed to accomplish his goals.

None of them had known that Harry had kept his mental connection with Lord Voldemort during his sleepless nights. During their conversations at night, the two old enemies had shared a strange familiarity that with time only increased. Voldemort found deep in Harry a Slytherin of great potential, and he helped him develop his cunning and determination. It was in one of those times that Harry became interested in the Dark Arts. However, nobody ever knew. Not even Dumbledore, whom had not taken his eyes away from Harry through those two years.

In seventh year, the Potter boy was elected as Head Boy. It was in that same year when the bond of trust and friendship that he had kept with Ron and Hermione was completely broken, destroying the golden trio of Gryffindor. Potter enjoyed solitude, so he considered the term 'friendship' as unnecessary in his life. Everyone thought that it would be a matter of time for him to realize how much he needed the company of people who would understand him. But they were all wrong.

Harry enjoyed the understanding of someone, the only being he needed and who would teach him to surpass his previous weaknesses: Lord Voldemort. His loyalty and trust to Dumbledore's side had disappeared after the death of his godfather. In those days, he began to question what he had to do… Dumbledore had only given him sorrow and lies in his life, for which he would give one chance to Voldemort. If he could show him being capable of providing him with what he needed, he would switch to the dark side.

_And Voldemort fulfilled all of Harry's expectations_.

At the end of seventh year, after the graduation ceremony, Voldemort attacked Hogwarts with his best weapons. The absolute union of vampires to his side, together with that of some giant and werewolf groups, and his loyal snakes were the grand blow. The numerous death eaters took care of the rest.

It was a day of grieving for the Magical Community. The day in which a new generation of wizards saw with their own eyes what that magical war truly meant. And only few survived to tell.

Everyone expected that Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, prestigious Head Boy, and graduating with the best scores, would have been one of the leaders for the defense groups. But that was the last mistake they ever made with regards to the boy. There would never be more expectations of him…

Harry Potter stood to the right of the Dark Lord, the most sought position by death eaters and that at the same time indicated that whoever took it, would hold that greatest protection from the Dark Lord. It also showed that he was the model death eater, the most powerful and loyal of all. That spot had been empty for many years, and Potter held it to this day, never losing it.

The Magical Community preferred to think that the Boy Who Lived had died in the attack. He was now called the Heir of Voldemort, or Filldeserp, the alias that the Dark Lord had assigned him within his Dark Circle. Nobody wanted to associate him with the image of the innocent Harry from his first years at Hogwarts. Only Voldemort called him by his real name on certain occasions.

Voldemort and Potter… It was the public announcement of their alliance what gave way to the Dark Age. The perfect duo to instigate panic in England and the rest of the world… There seemed no way out of the Dark Kingdom that slowly approached. There would be a time in which there would be no one else who could be a strong opponent and everyone would fall. In the mean time, however, wizards supported their heroes, those who remained and had not yet been broken.

"Neville! How dare you miss the meeting?!" Yelled Hermione Granger that same morning, completely outraged.

"Last night I had other things to attend to instead of having to listen to MacMillan's monotonous speeches." Answered Longbottom absentmindedly.

"Would you like to be sanction for your incompetence in your position?" Said his friend, reprimanding him again.

"They wouldn't." Neville said shrugging his shoulders. "They haven't for many years and I doubt it would be good for them now, after that death eater attack at that muggle festival…"

Hermione and Neville were sitting, supposedly working, at the Aurors Headquarters in the Ministry of Magic. The night before, there had been a meeting from their general commanders by request of Minister Ernie MacMillan, which explained the tired and overwhelmed expressions of the aurors that morning.

Hermione Granger had become a very attractive woman who was about to turn twenty-four years old. She was tall, thin and slender, with a delicate and fit body. The very fine features of her pale face were marked by some very inopportune bags under her eyes that made her look older than she really was. At Hogwarts, she had been known by her bushy and graceless brown hair. But she now had it more straight, though the tips were still hard to handle, and it had a particular shine after receiving the necessary caring, which she let fall dignified over her shoulders. As for her eyes, which in the past had shown cheerfulness and tranquility, now appeared slightly sad and reflected the stress she was suffering because of the endless amount of work she constantly faced.

Neville had stopped being the trembling boy from his early childhood. With time, he had shown why he was placed as a member of the Gryffindor House. He displayed compelling courage and loyalty to his own, as well as being a true gentleman to those ladies who deserved his respect. He still possessed the quality of being extremely forgetful, as much effort as he put on trying to stop it. Hermione had the suspicion that it was not in his nature, but a consequence of a memory loss spell that could have been used against him at a young age. His face still showed the round features of his younger years, but with the constant exercise that came with being an auror, he had become a very slim young man. His brown hair and his brown hair color concluded Neville's physical aspect.

"Neville, you shouldn't miss those meetings. Even if we already know most of what they are saying, there are some things that are worth it."

"Oh, really?" Asked a voice behind Hermione. When they turned around, Ronald Weasley smiled at them as a way of saying hello while he walked closer to his two friends. "Tell me, Mione, because maybe I fell asleep during that part…"

Ron continued being the same red-haired and blue-eyed person as always. He was the tallest of the three, and certainly the one who portrayed the most pride. Nevertheless, he was not as haughty as it had been expected of him considering he was one of the most famous aurors. Instead, he had learned to appreciate modesty. His face had a genuine angelical aspect, a virtue granted to him by his freckles, although that did not happen when Weasley fell into one of his impulsive attacks of fury.

"And the two of you are the renowned leaders of the aurors?" Asked Hermione, exasperated.

"Hmm, Miss Perfect has spoken…" Mocked her Ron while he tried to fix that elegant robe he was wearing.

And that is how the trio of aurors was. No matter how serious the topic was, they tried to keep it as relaxed as possible so they would not make their jobs even more tiresome. They were people mature and sensible, but now and then they let themselves be taken by the lack of humor in those dark days. It was what kept them standing. If it was not for that, they would have fallen years before, with the rest of their classmates.

Hermione was the practical one and the main brain, Neville was the power, and Ron was the strategy and impulse. The strategies made out by Weasley usually had no mistakes, although they were not always perfect. Hermione always had a solution for any kind of problem, and she would move by intuition most of the times. And Neville, he was considered one of the most experienced wizards of his time, the Hero that filled the void left by Potter.

"We have to investigate on the last attack on a muggle town." Informed Hermione.

"I don't think it was chosen for a specific reason." Commented Ron. "There were no magical people living there of whom they would have wanted to take revenge on, right?"

"But maybe there was someone important from the muggle side." Said Neville. "Were any death eaters caught in the attack?"

"Hmm…" Hermione searched for a parchment marked by a red line on the left edge among the pile she had on her desk. After looking at it, she handed it to her two friends. "Jugson, Cornfoot, Branstone…"

"They haven't said anything about it?" Asked Ron, frowning.

"You know what usually happens. They are more afraid of retaliation from Voldemort and Filldeserp than of what we could do to them." Answered Neville. "We should apply more drastic measures to get information… Fire against fire, don't you think?" Mione grimaced in response.

"I wished they still feared Azkaban as much as they used to…" She whispered.

"The damn dementors joined the Dark Lord years ago… Since then we haven't found a good substitute, as much as we've tried…" Said Ron, shaking his head. "I wonder what the Dark Lord would do to them if they were to betray him… Although I can imagine it."

"It surely wouldn't be a quick death, Ron." Said Neville after sighing with resignation. "Though I've heard some prisoners say during my rounds that Filldeserp handless all the inhuman punishments… They say he has a special intuition to know whether you are lying to him." Ron and Hermione's expressions darkened after hearing about their old friend.

"That traitor… I swear one day he will pay for everything he has done to us…" Whispered Ron, his words filled with irrational hatred. On the other hand, Hermione looked sad and thoughtful.

"Today he turns twenty-four…" She whispered with longing. "I wish he was still with us, so we could celebrate together…"

"He doesn't deserve it, Mione. I'm sure Voldemort will make sure that today is one of the best days of his life." Hermione smiled bitterly after Ron's words.

"Everything could have been different…"

"But it isn't." Said Neville abruptly, stopping the broken words of the girl. "What could have been doesn't matter, but what it is… and he is Voldemort's heir. There is nothing left of that person whom we knew many years ago…"

"I know." Said Hermione, making a gesture of acknowledgement with her head. "I just wonder why he would have decided to betray us, what we did wrong for him to choose the one who ruined his life…"

"We did nothing wrong, Hermione. It was him. He is the one guilty of what happened. He let himself fall. He gave up, accepted doing what was easy instead of what was right… He will pay for it, and when he realizes what he did, it will be too late."

That was the end of the topic, although mentally the trio continued meditating about it. Both Ron and Neville kept an exclusive place for Harry in their hearts, the area of hatred. Neither of them needed to list the reasons for doing so. The mere idea of having been betrayed by someone they had so cared for, and from whom they had learned so much, disgusted them… Ron would never forget graduation day because of that bastard. The image of his previous best friend standing next to Voldemort still haunted him during sleepless nights.

_Could it have been stopped? Could Hermione be right?_

Ron refused to believe it. Harry was the coward, the one who had given up, who had not valued their friendship, who had not examined his past, who had not overcome his weaknesses. They simply did not have the blame for Potter's transformation.

On the other hand, Hermione did believe so. They could have made the difference in Harry's choice if only they had shown more understanding for the boy, if only they had supported him and talked to him when they knew he needed them. They had misunderstood everything. They thought Harry needed time to recover, time alone. It turned out the opposite.

If only they had realized before of what was happening to Harry, this would not be happening… If only they had not been content with his monotonous responses to all the questions they asked about his emotional estate, to his problems… If only they had questioned his extreme interest for knowledge and his unnatural silence… They would have been the friends Harry had needed.

They did not think it was so important, they wrongly judged him, they abandoned him…

"Mione, at what time did Dumbledore say to go to headquarters?" Asked Ron, interrupting his work and looking up to see her with his serene blue eyes.

Hermione did not answer, completely submerged in her thoughts. Neville exchanged an alarmed look with Ron. Their friend did not usually deeply meditate during work hours, she considered it unprofessional… She was the most dedicated in their ministry jobs, and now, was she distracted?

"Mione?" Asked Neville carefully. He laid a hand on his friend's shoulder, startling her.

"What?" She asked, realizing where she was.

"Are you okay?"

"Why shouldn't I be?" Asked Hermione dryly. Neville cleared his throat nervously.

"Because Ron asked you a question and you haven't even listened…"

"I'm sorry. What were you saying, Ron?"

"At what time do we have to be at headquarters?"

"At eight."

"What were you thinking about, Mione?" Asked Neville.

"Nothing, nothing Nev. Don't worry. I'm going out for lunch, you don't mind, right?"

Before they even got a chance to respond, the young brunette had stood up and walked out of the door without saying anything else.

_July 31st always brought so many memories…_

The general headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix were located at one of the best protected places in England. Only the chosen members of it were aware of its location, most of them ignorant of it. That was a security measure that had to be adopted in those times if they did not want to be attacked by surprise.

The spies of the Order on Voldemort's side were rare, but those who took the risk never stopped sending the crucial information about the next moves. Because of that, they had minimized by a third the number of deaths in some attacks.

But nothing mattered if behind that information there was nobody who could help keep the Magical Community safe. That was why aurors from the Ministry or retired that could be trusted were part of the Order. And they not only did not lack defenders, but they also counted with numerous healers within the groups in case immediate attention was needed. Saint Mungo was not safe anymore after it had been almost completely taken over by the death eaters in an attack a few months back.

For that same reason, the Order was the only organization capable and willing enough to even aspire to fight against the ideals of the Dark Lord. In the same way as Voldemort, they also fought for the support from other nations in that British magical war. At the beginning, most had remained neutral until they finally suffered, just like them, the bloody tragedy that the dark forces produced. It was a fight for power and only the one who could subdue the other would win to tell the story.

"Ron, Herm, Nev, here!" Called them a female voice from the other side of the room.

"How are you doing, Ginny?" Asked Neville, giving a sweet smile to the red-hair girl.

Everyone knew how much the auror loved Weasley, but he had never confessed his feelings for fear of putting her at risk and being the one guilty of any harm on her. Some suspected that Ginny felt the same way because of the particular way in which she treated him. Many said they would make a perfect couple, though Ron insisted that they had personalities that clashed.

Ginny Weasley had become a respectable woman. Her red hair reached her waist and sweetly surrounded her face, making her look more innocent than she was. She always had it down. Her almond color eyes often shined with warmth and conviction, constantly encouraging all those whom she looked at. She was of average height, a little shorter than Hermione.

"I am very well, what's new?"

"The Ministry is as boring and chaotic as usual." Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Saint Mungo's?"

"We are definitely no better than you guys." Ginny pointed out. She had decided to become a healer, holding inside of her a bottomless wish to save innocent lives.

"This can't continue like this." Hermione whispered.

"We all wish this to end, Mione." Ron comforted her. "But until those bastards aren't dead, there won't be a way."

At that moment, an agitated Remus Lupin entered the room. Everyone present, who had been divided in different groups chatting about diverse topics, turned to see him, alarmed because of his look. His face was showing an abnormal paleness while he tried to breathe with normality again.

Remus was one of the people who took the topic of war with the most seriousness in the Order. He was barely seen smiling during the day and he generally had a tired or exhausted look. He perhaps saw it as a personal challenge… To show his loved ones whom had died that he would not fall, that he would fight for them and avenge them. If he died, it would be with honor, fighting as all of them.

"They are attacking…!" He informed, breaking the deadly silence.

"What?" Many screamed disturbed while others moaned in fear.

"Diagon Alley and the London muggle area that surrounds it!" He finished saying.

Immediately, the aurors present disappeared knowing exactly what they were supposed to do.

_To defend what belonged to them: hope and life._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** This story and characters do not belong to me. The characters belong to the amazing J. K. Rowling, and the story originally belongs to Parvati-Blossom, who has wonderfully agreed to let me translate it. If able, you should really consider reading the original version in Spanish.

**Warning: **Some chapters may contain strong language and images. Torture is a common occurrance in the dark side, please keep that in mind.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy the chapter!

* * *

_I am the son_

_and the heir_

_of a shyness_

_that is criminally vulgar_

_I am the son and heir_

_of nothing in particular._

**Chapter 2**

Nobody noticed the cautious and silent steps that were walking toward the meeting room. However, when seeing the arrogant figure of the most loyal of all death eaters, everyone would stop without looking at him, turning their paths or simply ignoring him. Some would dare throw looks of resentment and envy, though only those who did not possess a brain to ponder on what they were doing.

The figure smiled with insolence to the curtseys given to him by the useless apprentices. They admired him and adopted him as a kind of… _example_ to follow in their path of loyalty to the Dark Lord. He hated the mere idea of being admired because of simple rumors that spread across the hallways of the fortress of the Dark Order. Filldeserp wanted respect by those who could consider themselves as equals to him, and to provoke intimidation to the weak. He had power over them, and in that way everything was much easier. He did not wish to be _admired_ by weak, only they would allow themselves to be surprised by the most basic. _Idiots_.

His elegant silver robe fluttered dramatically behind him. One of the high death eaters groaned because of this, upset because of what he considered ridicule. Filldeserp dedicated him a mocking smile, but always maintaining his proud pose. The death eater held his gaze for a couple of seconds, before drifting his eyes nervously toward anything that could be remotely interesting. To this, the Dark Lord's protégé laughed softly and continued his walk to the meeting room.

Why was that death eater not able to hold visual contact? It was obvious. _No one_ could resist those dark green eyes staring with authority to their person. It made them feel invaded, even spied upon, as if Filldeserp always knew what they were thinking, or if they were hiding something. As much as they knew they had not failed at anything, it incited a feeling of… _insecurity_… No. Weakness.

Only the Dark Lord could respond to the intensity of those eyes. None had any reason to fear the other, they owed each other trust and respect, and that is what made Potter an incomparable death eater. It did not matter how much effort anyone put into it, they would _never_ catch Voldemort's attention the same way as the brat who had done it from the beginning. They would never reach such familiarity. Because that was what held together those two old enemies, Potter was the perfect heir according to the Lord… Similar pasts, simultaneous presents, and parallel futures.

The mere idea of having to venerate Filldeserp as a "young" master altered the mood of the most veteran death eaters. But they could do nothing about it. It was a direct order from the Dark Lord. Besides, those who dared defy the orders of Dumbledore's previous golden boy suffered severe consequences. Many still remembered when the boy, of only nineteen years old, was _baptized_ as Filldeserp five years previously, and how there had been one person who had opposed to his title. He was punished in front of everyone so they would learn not to defy the Dark lord… Tortured, humiliated and murdered in the bloodiest way that Potter could think of at that moment.

It was that image of torture what stopped the death eaters of even thinking on betraying Voldemort. They knew there was no person who could escape the punishment. However, that was discovered throughout the years, nothing was immediate.

Filldeserp entered the room stealthily, although, as he was expected, his entrance did not go unnoticed. He received four looks filled with hatred and a pleased smile. He bowed slightly to his Lord before placing himself on the privileged spot: on the chair to the right of the Dark Lord. He browsed the table, recognizing the four death eaters present. Bellatrix Lestrange (to his sorrow, he had never been able to take full revenge, although he did enjoy several torture sessions to the bitch by his own hand, given to him by his Lord), Draco Malfoy (who had dignifiedly followed the –contaminated- steps of his father), Anthony Goldstein (a Ravenclaw fanatic of the Dark Arts, if asked), and Megan Jones (her specialty? Being the spy to the Order of the Phoenix).

The only Gryffindor present knew very well the topic of discussion of that private meeting: a revision of the plans on the attack to Diagon Alley, which would be executed that same evening. For him, it would be his first public appearance since May. He was anxious to let out all his adrenaline on those useless and stubborn people who still believed in Dumbledore's words. He also thought it would be fun to see again the faces of those pathetic aurors. As if _they_ could be defied…!

In the end, the five death eaters present would be leaders of five planned attack groups, which would then spread throughout the area. The most experienced group would be led by Harry, and it would handle the central area of Diagon Alley; the most difficult of all the divisions. The other four would place themselves on the four cardinal directions. There would be no way for anyone to escape, as it was well known that nobody could apparate or disapparate from the area, although everything was possible with the Dark Arts.

"Well, since we are all present, we can begin…" Voldemort proposed, fixing his red eyes upon each of his five followers.

They discussed for over half an hour the different possibilities and situations that could present during the attack, the best ways to set the alarms and disapparate, and of course, the panic strategy. They discussed what would be the best curses and spells that they could use, being the unforgivable curses their favorites, and which members of the Ministry they would attempt to kidnap. The list of people who opposed the Dark Lord decreased every time, although those who remained unperturbed were the most _dangerous_. The main ones being obviously Dumbledore and Longbottom, together with some aurors…

Nevertheless, they would not last much longer. They did not possess the means to win the war. Longbottom, the great auror? Filldeserp had to held back a chuckle. In all of their years at Hogwarts, he would not have expected that of _poor_ Neville. The way things changed… He was equally sure that Longbottom had no idea what he was in for. He would soon discover it and the magical community would fall. Neville Longbottom, the _hero_? Ha! The trash people had in their heads!

"You know when and where to go, and you also know what you have to do not to disappoint me." Voldemort expressed his warning in each of his words. He would not tolerate any mistakes on the actual attack. "You may all leave, except for you, Filldeserp."

He nodded with obedience while the rest took the reports and parchments from the table and left the room without making a sound. They had learned not to disturb the peacefulness of the place, and Harry smiled satisfied with the notion. That day he was in a bright mood, something that Voldemort did not take long noticing.

"I see you carry good news, Harry." The young Potter raised his eyebrows, but he made no comment. He did not like to hear his real name, but coming from his Lord, it lacked importance.

"I do not think so, my Lord." He sighed, resigned, letting go of his cheerfulness and now facing Voldemort with seriousness. "Three death eaters were captured by the Ministry during the last attack." Voldemort's eyes flashed with hatred. "However, the number is very… _ideal_ considering what it could have been."

"What are you saying, Filldeserp?"

"Ten death eaters more were about to be captured by the Ministry, but they managed to escape thanks to the cooperation of Gilbert Whimple from the inside."

"Who were the ones captured?" Harry hesitated in responding.

"Jugson, Cornfoot, and Branstone…"

"Cornfoot?" Repeated Voldemort slowly.

"According to the information I received from the Ministry, Jugson and Branstone have refused to make any statement." Filldeserp continued, choosing to first deliver the "good" news. "They have most likely been made prisoners by now… But Cornfoot, the coward, has accepted a deal."

"And when is his statement being taken?"

"Tomorrow. First appointment of the day." Voldemort looked at his apprentice thoughtful, and he held his gaze, showing respect at the same time.

"Do you think you can eliminate him before that time, Filldeserp?"

The dark green eyes shined strangely to the proposal. Maybe because of the pleasure or because of the challenge that the mission meant: To sneak into the hallways of the Ministry toward the provisional cell of the death eater, and sanction him for his betrayal. He had done it a couple times, although in most cases Voldemort preferred to be present during the torture, so he usually would send one of his loyal death eaters on a _kidnapping_ assignment. To send Filldeserp directly would mean to assassinate the man right in the heart of the Ministry without them noticing it until the next morning. Voldemort most likely wanted the affair to be dealt quickly because of how close the statement time was to the attack to Diagon Alley on that same night.

"Do you doubt the perfect outcome of my missions, my Lord?" Answered Filldeserp with a prideful smile that indirectly informed Voldemort of how pleased he was by the order he was given.

"Of course not, my heir." Voldemort returned the smile. "Just be careful. We do not need any inconveniences before the attack tonight, understood?"

"I will be on time, Tom. I do not know what you are worrying about…"

There were certain occasions when 'my Lord' sounded too formal to speak in private with Voldemort, knowing how much trust there was between the two of them. It was during their old night conversations while at Hogwarts, around the time when Harry finally began fixing his loyalty to the Dark Side, when 'Voldemort' began breaking down to 'Tom.' He only used it when the situation was not serious and obviously, when he was sure nobody was listening. He did not want to humiliate his Lord.

"Do not disappoint me, Filldeserp. If you fail, I do not know in who else I could trust with such a vital mission…"

The young man nodded serenely and when he showed signs of standing up and do the usual curtsy, Voldemort put his hand on his shoulder, stopping him. Green eyes observed him, surprised and then patiently.

"Happy birthday, Harry."

He stared at Voldemort intensely, mentally choosing his response to the congratulations. He really was not expecting a reminder of it. It was true that his Lord had always remembered in previous occasions, but he thought this year would be different considering all the complications that the 31st of July was bringing.

Nevertheless, when he finally decided to respond, his lord interrupted him again.

"You deserve a present, just as in previous occasions. The first time, I gave you the link with Nagini, with all of its properties." The Dark Lord began listing. "The second time, your official designation… The third and fourth, I granted you special access to the libraries in the fortress, where you perfected your training." He smiled with pride. "During the fifth time, I granted you the execution of Wormtail; and last year, you earned the legendary sword of the Slytherin family…"

Harry remembered each one of those presents. Since his eighteenth birthday, Nagini had become his inseparable companion in missions like the one he would have to accomplish that same afternoon at the ministry, when team work and stealth were essential. His official designation (when he had also done his first punishment to death eaters) was a great ceremony and a pleasant surprise. It gave him the respect that he had longed for from the death eaters and the Magical Community, that did not take long in discovering that the Boy Who Lived was now the legitimate heir of the Dark Lord.

The Dark Arts that he learned between his twentieth and twenty-first birthdays were exclusive and incomparable knowledge. It was possible that only the Dark Lord and he knew of the existence of those charms, rituals and potions. Pure gems of dark magic. And then, Wormtail's torture and his following assassination under his hand were exquisite revenge. When the betraying rat gave its final breath, a fantastic delight pervaded Harry. He would soon get Bellatrix, but he would have to wait until his Lord did not need her anymore in his plans.

Nobody would doubt of the good use that Filldeserp gave to the sword of Slytherin. During his first year in the fortress, he was trained for all kinds of defense and attack. Thus, he was able to handle his sword perfectly… Although seeing his ferocious movements in person was a privilege that only certain enemies (now death) had. He carried it with him at all times, though nobody knew it. Well, _almost_ no one. Voldemort did.

What other gift could his Lord give him beyond what he already had?

"You have given great use to each one of them." Voldemort smiled. "I am sure you will to this year's as well…"

"What is it?"

Voldemort stood up and walked slowly to the old shelves in the back, to which many death eaters usually went to whenever they needed information for strategies. The Dark Lord directed his attention to the highest shelf and, after extending his right hand, a book with crimson cover made its way to him. It had an old and delicate aspect, as if it needed to be treated with care because it could fall apart if treated too harshly. By its cover, Harry could assume that nobody had read it in a long time.

Finally, Voldemort sat down again and gave the book to his protégé, who was looking at him questioning his gift.

"The eyes have mystical powers, Harry." The Lord explained. "You know how to handle most charms without a wand, and that could not be done without having developed a skill with the power in the eyes. In the old ages, the power in the pupils was referred to as Sharingan. With it, it can be seen through spells that change looks, invisibility, etcetera… and cancel them. Not only that, but techniques of your opponents can also be understood and imitated at the same time."

"All with your eyes?" Voldemort nodded, seeing that Harry understood.

"In this book the most effective and archaic techniques are revealed. Some very complicated, but I do not doubt you will be able to acquire them with ease. You should also perfect the powers of hypnosis, confusion, amnesia, incapacitation, and recovery. It is necessary not only to know how to damage physically, but also with the mind."

"I will take advantage of all this knowledge, Tom. You will see." Filldeserp stood up, holding the book with his right hand. Voldemort nodded with conformity.

After his bow, Voldemort's heir left the room, beginning to plan in his head his infiltration to the Ministry. It would be a very entertaining afternoon.

* * *

Filldeserp entered an old red phone booth with a lot of missing glass panels. He took the muggle phone that hanged twisted in the wall and began dialing a warped series of numbers. The usual female voice sounded inside the booth, questioning his identity and the reason for his visit. Smiling mockingly, he identified himself as Draco Malfoy, Head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation.

The Ministry never learned… Security in the booth did not possess a good lie or advanced dark spells detector. They also had not improved their muggle technology, which could be noticed in the old aspect that the phone showed.

"_The Ministry of Magic wishes you a good day_."

Ha! More proof that they had no idea what awaited them… The 31st of July would never be a peaceful day, he had promised it on his seventeenth birthday.

He took the distinctive badge and placed it on his delicate robe. He rejoiced in the idea of getting Malfoy into trouble by entering under his name during unsuitable hours for his department, although he had to be careful. After they found the death eater's corpse, they would examine all the registered names that had entered during the day. Each one of them would be looked into and blah, blah, blah… The Lord did not want known where Malfoy's loyalty truly lied.

After exiting the booth and observing his reflection at one of the walls in the Atrium, he applied on himself the provisional invisibility charms over his wand and weapons, and nullifying all abrupt sounds. Not that they were necessary, but it would be a catastrophe if a Head of Department burst into the ministry with a dagger in his hand. He also had the feeling that this afternoon would turn out very interesting for the espionage theme… He could take a trip to the aurors department…

He had to move naturally if he did not want to raise suspicion among the aurors patrolling. Certainly everyone knew the inexpressive and political attitude of Malfoy, and suddenly seeing him interested in an environment he rarely frequented would be… _odd_. More strange than it was for him to _work_ camouflaged as Malfoy. He was disgusted by the idea of looking at himself in a mirror and seeing his reflection as a Malfoy. He was only doing it for the greatness of the Cause… Otherwise, he would have refused to apply a mirror spell on himself. Ugh…

The _clone_ of Draco walked calmly to the elevator knowing beforehand that the boy pretending to play in the middle of the Atrium, stopping every now and then to contemplate the statues that decorated the place, was actually an auror disguised with polyjuice potion who observed every person entering and exiting the ministry. It was extremely obvious, because his brown eyes would notice every movement and had a glow of inevitable worry. Since when were four year old kids worried about death eaters? That was something he did not remember seeing the last time he had gone outside…

Once inside the elevator, he waited for it to stop on the second floor. There was not much time. If he wanted to get some information out of the Auror Department he would have to do it now as otherwise, after his return, everyone would most likely be gone for the day. Some people stopped to greet him, but Filldeserp ignored them. Hopefully he was not ruining Malfoy's _fabulous_ contacts…

He turned at a corner, passed by a set of thick double oak doors, and exited to a spacious and messy area divided in cubicles. All the doors were closed because the silence charms would not take effect otherwise. Filldeserp smiled instantly when he thought of how to overcome that small problem. He turned around to see if anyone was walking toward him. No one.

He whispered some words that would confuse anyone who did not know the language. He focused his attention in the power he was calling over himself and let magic flow accordingly. A strong feeling of energy flowed through his veins in those few fractions of a second. Then it all stopped, but he knew he had achieved it, as with everything he propounded.

He had transformed himself into an invisible specter, with the power to walk through solid objects. He mentally smiled. The gems that Dark Magic always provided him…

He walked through the wall that separated the Auror Department. The indescribable sensation that overwhelmed him was uncanny. He felt both death and alive at the same time, as if he was nothing and everything simultaneously, corporeal but ethereal… He could perceive how every single solid particle invisibly dispersed in his path. It was _abnormal_, but wonderful. He had power over it.

He focused again on the consistent reality. He noticed with surprise that he was now in front of Dumbledore's golden trio. Longbottom, Granger, and Weasley, arguing about something that, by the looks of it, made them feel very uncomfortable. He felt nothing when he saw his previous best friends. Absolutely nothing. As if he had never met them or knew anything about them

What he felt was rejoice in noticing that neither of the three had discerned his presence. Any powerful witch or wizard powerful enough should have noticed the change of air in the environment. They had to have noticed that it was _contaminated_ by Dark Arts. That only showed that they were a group of incompetent aurors, dominated by the old geezer.

He listened to them talk about the attack on the muggle town, the death eaters they had captured, the fear he brought about in the death eaters (he smiled with pride) and what they thought about him… Bah. Mere nonsense. In the mean time, he had gone through the files they possessed there and the last suspects they had on dark activity. They did not possess even a fifth of the truth. Disappointing, as usual.

He left the Department, walking through the wall once more. He made the specter curse disappear and promptly placed again upon himself the mirror charms, his appearance showing a bored Draco Malfoy. He had thought that spying on the aurors would be more entertaining… Bah. He was about to get the real fun: take revenge on a traitor.

Once more he made his way to the elevator, ignoring the polite greetings from most. For a moment he thought Malfoy had some friendships that were rather… erm… _unusual_, because the warmest greetings came from _extremely_ formal men. He had to hold back a mocking smile while leaning onto the elevator's wall. The notion of Malfoy being bisexual would not surprise him…

He waited about fifteen minutes until the muggle machine finally arrived to where he wanted to go: the forbidden dungeons. Once he exited the elevator, it immediately disappeared, leaving him theoretically without a way out. Interesting… _As if he had not been there before_.

There were no doors to the sides, only one long hallway, without any windows or light. Any ignorant would pull out their wand and call for a lumos spell, if it did not activate the alarms. The aurors that patrolled possessed a special object that would guide them through that particular darkness, though not an intruder.

Filldeserp walked along the hallway for several minutes. His steps were monotonous and did not produce any sound. He was not anxious or in a hurry; he knew he had more than enough time to finish the mission. The death eaters could begin the attack to Diagon Alley on their own, he would arrive to give the final strike; his Lord had authorized his delay.

He stopped in front of the oak door reinforced with magical shields of the lightest magic. When they clashed against his own (which were naturally active), there was no negative reaction, the door simply opened with a slight squeak. Before him was what the Ministry called the "death eaters prison," the recently added replacement for Azkaban. Ha.

He had to admit that from the inside of these cells it would be extremely difficult to escape. Magic was nullified for the prisoners and any muggle means of escape could be completely disregarded. However, it was more than easy to escape if someone from the outside, who knew where he was walking, cooperated with you. Nobody had escaped yet… Because nobody had deserved to be forgiven by the Lord. Nobody behind those bars was a transcendental death eater.

The first cells held new death eaters, condemned for trivial crimes. From there, the deeper you walked in, the more dangerous the person behind the bars. He knew were Cornfoot was: medium risk.

He went toward that section. He exchanged looks with several familiar faces, some bringing him back memories. He once more controlled his emotions behind his unaffected mask, preparing himself for the sweet torture he would execute just a few minutes later. Effectively. His grey eyes stopped looking around once they met with the black eyes of the traitor who was staring at him with interest.

Cornfoot looked depressing, although Harry did not stop to feel pity for him. On the floor, having lost all dignity and loyalty to his own, he was merely another pathetic rat who thought he could escape the Punishment. How naive. They underestimated the Dark Lord, a mistake which would always cost them their lives.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy? Did you come to mock me as if you were better than me?" The death eater whispered so that only Harry could hear him. The Dark Lord's protégé could not help a wicked smile.

"I would have wasted a lot of time for nothing if I had just come down here to mock you, don't you think?" He answered without moving from his spot.

"Then… Are you the one _He_ sent to torture me?"

"Correct."

"You?" Cornfoot's voice could have had some irony, but he was too much of an idiot to accomplish it.

"Me."

Cornfoot frowned. That was not the usual way in which Draco Malfoy answered his insults. He always had a comeback, demanded respect he did not deserve, and boasted of having power over him. He would definitely _not_ remain quiet to a direct insult. What was happening?

"Are you okay Malfoy? You seem different…"

"Is being locked affecting you or have you finally realized how blind you are?" Replied Harry under the blond's appearance.

"You are an idiot, Malfoy. Do you think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will give you a reward for this mission? We are only slaves, people who only do his dirty work. Nothing more."

"Just like the aurors who do the dirty work for Dumbledore. Tell me something I do not know, Cornfoot." Harry decided not to begin arguing ideas about the two remarkable figures in the magical world with that ungrateful man. It was not worth it.

"Well, I will tell you something you seem not to know. You are not armed. You cannot do anything to me."

"You underestimate me, traitor. "

"Really? Of what are you capable now, Malfoy? The last time I checked you could barely do a proper Expelliarmus…"

Harry placed all his attention on the facial expression of the death eater, he did not want to miss it. Smiling cynically, he got rid of all his mirror charms for the second time in the day. He stopped being the blond Draco Malfoy to be the authentic dark haired Harry Potter. His grey eyes took color and his facial features darkened more. During the process of transfiguration, that did not last more than fifteen seconds, Cornfoot recreated expressions of horror and panic. He could read in the eyes of Filldeserp his future; he did not need to be told. He was going to die.

"You said, Cornfoot?" Silence was his answer.

His pale lips curved in a smile full of evil, very similar to that often shown by Lord Voldemort. The death eater pulled back a couple of steps, until his back was against the back wall. Only a few feet separated him from his murderer, a distance that would not save him. He would have to be _miles_ away from Filldeserp to even have a chance to restart everything…

With fear, he saw how Filldeserp pulled out his wand from his clothes. The detector in the door had not unfazed before his magical core; he was ready for that. The young man pointed with his wand directly at the traitor at the same time as the bars separating them disappeared as if they had never been there. A series of words in parselmouth and the world of the death eater broke into a thousand pieces.

Each part of his body began burning; his muscles contracted in anticipation to the pain. He began noticing how his main bones slowly broke. With legitimate weakness, he fell to his knees. But the pain that he was enduring was nothing to what awaited him.

His brain stopped thinking coherently (if it ever had done it). Nothing made any sense. His eyesight got blurry and cruel darkness embraced him. But something was keeping him conscious, or someone. He stopped listening and smelling. The only thing allowed was to feel.

Once his bones were rightly broken, he noticed that his pulse had accelerated. His heart was pumping more blood to his entire system because something was telling it that it was needed. In reality, he was just wasting energy because soon Cornfoot was covered by his own blood, with different wounds all over his body. Breathing became difficult because his longs were tired and bruised as they felt the pressure of his broken ribs.

But the worst came. The unimaginable. Cornfoot could not help but scream and scream of pain as he had never done before in his life. There was no way his body could stand so much torture and exhaustion. His broken bones, wounds all over his body, a massive blood loss, difficult breathing… Who could live much longer like that? WHO? Filldeserp was making sure that he was conscious until his last breath, the bastard…

'Overloaded' with blood, his veins and arteries began swelling. Little by little. It hurt, yes, it did… It felt as if his blood was leaving and oddly reentering again his system. It was suffocating. There was both more and less than enough liquid. Nevertheless, the Suffering went to the extreme when the first of his veins could not take it anymore and tore. Then the second, third… Fifth… Eight… He soon lost count.

The pain was uncomparable. It was as if teeth held unto his skin and pulled, tearing without mercy every inch of it. All of his body burned, it was insufferable. There was no position in which it did not hurt like hell. Numbness and sensations at the same time. He would have never imagined that his death would be so painful. Now he believed what death eaters said about Filldeserp capable of being worse than Voldemort. He did not even have consideration for the services of death eaters.

Filldeserp watched everything with pleasure and wickedness. Enjoying every expression of the traitor, every gasp, every plea that escaped his bruised lips… In normal conditions, he would have died already. But dark magic was favoring the Cause: a couple more minutes of life so that he could live longer than anyone had lasted. Cornfoot should feel flattered.

He walked the few steps that separated him from the death eater, looking at him with true hatred and repugnance while he saw him squirming on the floor. He pulled out a long and sharp dagger from his robes.

"Say goodbye to the world, Cornfoot. This is how someone pays treason, with blood and death." He grimed after saying such words.

His pulse did not shake when he stabbed the wizard right on the heart. The tip of it came out of the back. He remained for a few seconds admiring the blood that poured out of the body of his victim and then pulled back his favorite tool, the dagger bathed of purely red liquid. He observed Cornfoot give his last breath before falling to the ground. _Lifeless_.

With a simple spell, his dagger was clean of all evidence. He applied the mirror spells once more, and the dagger and his wand were both hidden again in his clothes. His bloody robes were transformed into new ones with a snap of his fingers, the original being sent back to the fortress where he would keep it as a souvenir of this mission.

He made his way to the elevator and decided to stop on the second floor. Everything seemed repetitive. He hated that the missions were so boring… Why couldn't the aurors discuss something that could have caught his attention? No, they had to talk of the past, mixing it with cheesiness.

The hallways were more deserted than the hour before. The attack to Diagon Alley had not begun, and if the aurors had already gone home, it would take them longer to attend the defense call. Everything was perfectly calculated.

Maybe only one fact had escaped his perfect equation. When he turned around the corner, he saw Hermione Granger walking toward him. Their gazes crossed each other. Hers examined him with disdain while his showed slight interest. He had to admit that his _friend _had a better look than before. Too bad she was wasted in the company of Longbottom and Weasley. Two real idiots. Only she was worthy on that trio; only she showed dignity, intelligence, and the courage necessary in the present.

Filldeserp decided to move a piece on that game: he smiled at Granger with a unique tone of wickedness. She looked at him oddly, picking up something unusual in the way in which he had smiled at her. That was not Malfoy's style. It was not his usual smile. But, then…

When Hermione followed him a couple of seconds later, Malfoy had already turned on the next corner. Instead of finding Draco walking in the direction of the cubicles, absolute nothingness welcomed her.

_Malfoy had disapparated in the second floor of the Ministry, one of the most protected, and no alarms had gone off._

* * *

The sky was covered by black clouds that predicted a brutal storm. The wind was not very harsh, but it had its strength. It was a day too cold for it to be the middle of summer. Although perhaps not, if the events that would occur later in the day were taken into account. People walked into Diagon Alley without realizing the danger they were in; without feeling that the air they were breathing was impregnated with polluting expectation, foretelling destruction of innocent blood.

It was not until the attack order was given by the leaders of the five groups of death eaters that people began running in different directions and yelling in panic. Only a few brave pulled out their wands from their robes and began defending their people, but nobody came out of the initial shock fast enough. Thus, by the time retaliation began, they were strategically surrounded.

The Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix were informed of the attack immediately. However, reinforcement was late to arrive due to the barrier placed around the Alley.

Death eaters against aurors. Black and white robes stood out among the crowd, who attempted to shelter children with their own bodies, the weakest among those present. There was no exit, all had been blocked and it was impossible to disapparate. Not even portkeys could be used. Innocent people would to die, they all knew it.

Hermione, Ron and Neville were fighting shoulder to shoulder in the central area, the area where the Wizarding bank was located, among other important buildings, and where the main dark forces were concentrated. Beams of light went everywhere. They had to be very agile to avoid too powerful charms so that their shield would not stagger to the strength of their attack.

Soon the trio was surrounded by fifteen death eaters, whom had positioned them close together, leaving the three in the middle. They were together, each protecting the back of the other and with their wands pointing straight forward. Their white robes were stained with blood, both their own and of others. Bodies filled the ground of the Alley. The death eaters had gotten what they wanted: a massacre.

"Look who we have here… The golden trio." Mocked one of the death eaters. The voice was that of a female and it did not take them long to identify it as that of Bellatrix Lestrange.

Some death eaters had lost their masks, revealing their faces to the community. None was a real surprise, as obviously those who did not want to be registered guarded their masks.

"Save your words, Lestrange." Said Neville with defiance. The death eater laughed loudly.

"Do you think you can defeat us, Longbottom? You are either too powerful or too stupid to believe you can fight fifteen at the same time."

Right when Ron was about to respond, someone approached the circle of death eaters with arrogance. His robe was completely different compared to that of anyone else, in both sides. It was aristocratic, silver colored with decorations in green, in honor of Slytherin. His pale face was hidden behind no mask, he did not need it. His green eyes had a bitterly cold and threatening glow.

"How disappointing, Bella." Muttered Filldeserp in a mocking tone.

The trio of aurors placed their attention to the heir of Voldemort. It was obvious by his way of speaking and of confronting the death eater that he had confidence in himself and an odd authority over the death eaters. Some of them had stepped back in respect when they recognized him, while others observed him with apprehension. Both Neville and Ron held their wands more tightly, focusing on them all the hatred toward the person they had in front of them. Hermione could not believe what she was seeing. She could not believe what Harry had turned into.

"What is it that you want?" Bella glanced at Filldeser. "You always interfere in the fun, always ruining it…"

"You are a coward, Bella." Filldeserp said casually. "Fifteen against three, have you no dignity?"

"What do _you_ know about dignity, traitor?!" Yelled Ron.

"We defend the honor of blood and power, and you go and round up three aurors just with numeric advantage… Disappointing." Said Filldeserp, ignoring Ron.

"It is not our problem if they don't have anyone to help them, _Potter_." Bellatrix counterattacked. "I think, instead, that the Lord will be very upset with you for defending your old friends. Because that's what they were, wasn't it?"

"_I_ am not defending anyone, Bellatrix." Filldeserp muttered coldly. "I only protect the honor of the Dark Lord. I do not want rats like you dirtying it."

Filldeserp was not lying. In his mind there was no intention of saving the trio. Be the hero again? Ha! In their dreams… He only believed that if they were to be killed, it had to be with merit and not because they had abused of their ability and agility.

Harry did not feel anything when he exchanged looks with those who used to be his friends, just like in the ministry. There was no guilt or regret. Not even memories. They were no part of his current life, they were the stubborn element that opposed his Lord. In the past, they might have meant something to him, he would have died for them. But not anymore. In fact, killing them would not be such a bad idea…

"Do you think that the Dark Lord cares whether we have numeric advantage, _Potter_?" Spoke Bellatrix again, emphasizing once more on his real last name, something that extremely irritated Harry.

"You are a coward, Lestrange. Nothing more than that." Harry turned around to walk away from that place when Neville intervened in the conversation.

"And you are a hypocrite, Potter! You think you're better than Lestrange?" Harry turned to look at Neville right in the eyes.

"Yes, I do, Longbottom. I might by a hypocrite, but I do not hide behind a crowd of people nor am I dominated by the orders of a foolish old geezer."

"You are a bloody bastard! That's what you are! You obey a homicidal monster, who murdered your parents! Could you not have at least some guilt over that?! You betrayed your own blood!" Yelled Ron furious.

"The reasons why I betrayed my blood are of no concern of yours, Weasley. Besides, your small brain would not understand them. You are subdued to an illusion. Dumbledore will never win and his truth is only held by lies. The day you realize that I am right will be too late… You will see."

"You don't know what you're saying!" Squealed Granger, coming out of her reverie.

"Where is Dumbledore now, _Hermione_? Where is he? Do you see him fighting shoulder to shoulder with you, defending _his_ people? Or is he in his pathetic headquarters, eating a lemon drop, waiting until you finish all the hard work, perhaps even dying to fulfill his tasks?" The death eaters laughed out loud at his speech.

"I do not see your Lord here either, Potter." Said Neville.

"He does not need to be here for such a simple attack." Filldeserp answered with ease. "Besides, he is always with us, even if you do not believe it." His green eyes glowed with slight insanity. "Only those who do not deserve his understanding ever die. But I do not think Dumbledore thinks anyone deserves his understanding, which is why there are less aurors, right?" With a mocking smile, he turned around and began walking on the opposite direction.

Neville could not take it any longer and threw a curse at Filldeserp, who did not even flinch to the attack on his back. A perfect shield of dark magic made the curse bounce. The dark wizard turned to face the auror, smiling viciously.

"An idealistic Gryffindor… How predictable…" Neville attacked again and his charms were avoided once more.

"Do you not think it is treacherous to attack from the back, Neville?" Said Harry.

There was no answer. The death eaters were eager for the duel to begin while Ron and Hermione observed the situation restless. Neville had not noticed yet, but Harry was doing magic without a wand.

"I will never be as treacherous as you. Heir to Voldemort? Is that where your ambition leads you, Potter?" The irony in Neville's voice was evident, but Harry showed no anger. He merely laughed. He laughed at Neville in an insolent way.

"Empty words, is that all you know how to say, Longbottom? I was hoping for something more from the star auror… From the _hero_ who replaced me. You need more than endless chatter, Neville. You have much to learn. Hmm…" Filldeserp observed his surroundings thoughtfully. "I think we could start with the first lesson right now, don't you think?"

At the same time as Harry pulled his wand out of his robe, the death eaters moved around Ron and Hermione, keeping them away from Neville. The auror was in defensive position, focusing on predicting the first movement of his enemy. However, one thing he would learn that night was that Filldeserp was not predictable. Not anymore. The Dark Lord had taught him to be original with his movements and to change direction at the last second. To always play the element of surprise against his adversaries.

The first minutes of the duel between the two leaders of the opposing forces in that attack were based on trivial charms. Both were moving with authentic agility and aimed with accuracy. Little by little, the death eaters and aurors were paying more attention to that duel that promised to be to the death than to their own missions. The magical skill of both was impressive, even if Filldeserp had the advantage. He would use his wand to attack while with his left hand he would take care of creating shields. The focus that his green eyes were showing was frightening, and it seemed as if he could predict and counterattack every move Neville made.

The gravity of the curses intensified every minute. Neville, who was only using his wand, was precluded in some occasions from defending himself and he was the more wounded of the two. Harry had some superficial wounds, caused by the brush of some beams. Soon Filldeserp began recurring to the advanced Dark Arts and in some instances he would put his wand away to do some difficult incantation maneuvers.

It was not long until Neville found himself without his wand, which lay on the ground, a few feet from him. But Harry, instead of taking advantage of his condition, stopped doing magic and pulled out the same dagger he had used to kill Cornfoot.

The dagger was thin and slightly long. It had a mount to cover the hilt and quillons for parrying. It could be used not only to stab and hurt, but also to repel sword attacks from the opponent, or to dull the blade of a weapon. It was the perfect combination with a sword, but Filldeserp did not think necessary to wield one against Longbottom. The dagger would be enough.

Death eaters and aurors around them kept fighting, although they remained attentive to the events of the duel. It was clear that the dark side had the advantage. Not even the reinforcements that were arriving little by little could succeed on reducing too much the number of dark wizards. Death eaters would create portkeys and help their fallen members disapparate before the aurors had the opportunity to catch any of them.

Many saw with astonishment how the protégé of Voldemort attacked Neville with precision and the auror made a strenuous effort not to be stabbed. Without a weapon to defend himself, he was just dodging. Finally he could not avoid the attacks much longer and the dagger wounded his right arm. He lost the rhythm and soon was immobilized, with the cold steel grazing his neck. He held his breath while staring at those murderous and unaffected green eyes.

The death eaters were showing their eager smiles while the aurors and the members of the light observed the scene with terror. Both Ron and Hermione kept trying to get closer, but they were afraid of not making it on time. Of losing Neville, their friend.

"Do you still think that I am a coward and unskillful, Longbottom?" Whispered Filldeserp softly. Neville did not reply, he was more concentrated on recovering his breath.

"Leave him!" Yelled Hermione a few feet away from them. Desperation and distress were more than recognizable in her voice. Harry glanced at the girl, to then turn his sight back at Neville. The dagger still on his neck.

"The mudblood begs me to leave you, do you think I should listen to her, Neville? Mercy has a price. You challenged me, not the opposite. Why should I leave you alive?"

"You are just like him." Neville muttered, with his lips slightly purple. "You are his equal… his heir. Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Harry?"

"I am only ashamed of your stupidity, Longbottom. Just that."

Everything happened really fast. Hermione and Ron, each on their own end, raised their wands at the same time and invoked two powerful offensive spells against Fillsederp. He raised his left hand to make Ron's spell turn back to his caster while with his right hand, he removed the dagger from its position and pointed with it at the beam coming from Hermione's wand, which divided in two and changed directions, hurting two aurors. Neville, who suddenly found himself without a dagger on his neck, got his wand back and pointed it shakily at Harry.

Ron was on the ground on his knees while Hermione watched dazed what was happening. Potter was looking at Longbottom, as if he was planning on killing him just with his sight, his dagger pointing at the ground. Bellatrix yelled something that sounded like 'finish him already, Potter!' but nobody paid attention to her. Not even Harry, who was always ready to ridicule her. Silence seemed indestructible with the passing of minutes. Nobody was moving, all eyes looking at Filldeserp and Longbottom.

It was then than a bolt of lightning flashed on the dark sky and it started raining heavily. Neville could not help but moan because of the pain that the rain drops provoked on his wounds. He gasped because of the effort that was taking him keep standing and looked at his enemy with resentment, who did not seem to want to put an end to it all. As if killing him was not yet something he wanted to do. But that was not what was happening. Harry was merely waiting for the auror's weakness to be too much for him to keep standing. He wanted to see him on the floor, humiliated.

It worked. The members of the light observed the image with sorrow while the death eaters smiled with pleasure. There was the clear proof that nobody could go against the Dark Lord or Filldeserp. _No one_. Nevertheless, the death eaters had hoped that their leader would kill Longbottom next. To their surprise, he raised his right hand to the air: the sign to retreat.

Some allowed themselves to make sounds of disapproval and anger, which was a bad idea as Filldeserp registered each one of the names who dared defy his order. After a dangerous look from his part, the rest of the four leaders also raised their hands.

_Five seconds later there was no death eater standing on Diagon Alley._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** This story and characters do not belong to me. The characters belong to the amazing J. K. Rowling, and the story originally belongs to Parvati-Blossom, who has wonderfully agreed to let me translate it. If able, you should really consider reading the original version in Spanish.

**Warning: **Some chapters may contain strong language and images. Torture is a common occurrance in the dark side, please keep that in mind.

Thank you for reading! I hope you are enjoying the story! And thank you to those who left reviews!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

"Neville! Oh, Neville!"

Hermione ran quickly toward the kneeled young man, who watched her with his eyes filled with a mysterious glow. They reflected his disappointment and confusion. He felt guilty that his ability had not risen to the occasion. He had barely managed to touch bloody Potter, who had dared to mock him in the worst possible way: by showing his weakness before the community and crushing their illusions.

The arms of his friend surrounded him carefully. He heard her sob for a few seconds, holding onto him as if she was afraid he would fade away from her arms. Neville did not complain, although his wounds were asking desperately for medical attention. The rain kept falling, calmer than before.

"Ron, are you okay?" Hermione let go of Longbottom suddenly to focus her attention on the red hair, who nodded with a weak smile on his face.

"Don't worry, Mione. Let's take Neville to headquarters; Ginny can take care of him there." Hermione agreed immediately.

Ron and Hermione put a hand each on Neville's shoulders and focused their thoughts on the image of the headquarters. They knew that the disapparation barriers around Diagon Alley were destroyed before the death eaters escaped. They would not be useful there anymore, now everything depended on the healers available to help out the public. They did not doubt there would be many dead, as in any key attack.

Seconds later, they apparated in the main room of the headquarters, where healers and other members of the Order were waiting for them. In an instant, five healers went straight to Neville. Both Hermione and Ron refused medical attention, arguing that their friend was a the priority. Thus, they walked to the meeting room, where they were told that Dumbledore had called for the rest of the Order to measure the consequences of the attack.

The Hogwarts headmaster observed them solemnly, his blue eyes twinkling in sorrow and worry when they walked into the room. The two Gryffindor sat sluggishly on their usual sits around the long table, and Hermione could not help but think about what Harry had said about the old wizard.

After all, if he was truly as kind and powerful as people said, why did he never come to the attacks? What was he afraid of? If Albus were to die, they would lose their great leader, but… was it really worth it to hide from the storm when this one would fall over you inevitably, sooner or later, having taken before thousands of lives that had nothing to do with the war?

"How are you?" Asked them Albus, examining them with his eyes and noticing in them the pain and despair.

"They got their way, Albus. Bodies and more bodies…" Ron whispered tiredly. Albus read in his look that something more serious than usual had occurred.

"Where is Neville?" Hermione hesitated before answering his question, he knew the impact it would cause.

"He's being seen by the healers."

"Neville?" Albus could not help but show his surprise. Hermione nodded silently. Neville was the one who always managed to avoid serious wounds, only ever carrying superficial ones. Though he had never faced Potter before. "What happened?"

"We came across _him_…" Ron muttered with tension noticeable in his voice.

"Him?" Questioned Dumbledore, confused. Hermione look down to pay attention to her hands when she answered.

"Harry…" Warm tears came out of her almond eyes and made their way down her face softly. Too many events together were blurring her reason and she could not hold back anymore.

"Filldeserp?" Dumbledore said, exchanging alarmed looks with Ron. "He is back in action?"

"That's what it seems." Weasley wanted to extend a hand to place it above Hermione's, but she avoided the touch. She did not need to be comforted.

"He is so different… He is not Harry, he isn't…"

"Hermione…" Began to say Ron, but he was interrupted by Dumbledore.

"You had not seen him like this before, Hermione. Your shock is understandable. Not many had seen him up close…"

"His eyes…" Hermione muttered, apparently without listening to Dumbledore's words. "Not even in his worse times at Hogwarts had I seen them so cold, so… indifferent. And when… when… he was about to kill Neville… no…" She hid her face behind her hands, drowning her words. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled dangerously.

"About to kill Neville?" The old man now paid his attention to Ron, who heavily nodded.

"Let me tell you, Albus."

The professor and the two aurors raised their heads and looked at the door, where a sickly looking Neville was smiling at them warmly, as if nothing had happened. He was more pale than usual, although his clothes were no longer drenched in blood. He stumbled slightly when he gave his first steps toward Ron, who stood up in an instant and helped him sat next to him.

"Are you okay, Neville?" The unmistakable and obvious question, a trend in those times.

"The healers said that my body is just suffering from shock because of the attack and because of some blood loss… They say that I will be weak for a couple of days and that I should rest, but I don't think that's convenient right now…"

"Health first, Neville." Reprimanded him Hermione, forgetting the grief she had been feeling seconds before. "You should not risk a relapse; there could be serious consequences long-term."

"I won't. Not again, Mione. I will not let him feel victorious again…"

The eyes of the auror shined in disdain, decision and humiliation. Because that was how he felt: an idiot for letting himself be defeated so easily. He had been cocky, and something had gone wrong…

"I have the feeling that I missed something substantial." Said Albus, looking seriously at the three aurors. The information he was receiving was too scattered and he could not tell the facts easily.

"I dueled with Potter." Dumbledore looked at him with shock and consternation.

"What were you thinking, Neville?!"

"I wanted to see if he was as good as rumors said. And I must say that rumors fall short once you can see what he can do… Half of the spells he threw at me I'd never heard of before, and he was exceptional in his use of magic and when brandishing that blade."

"His agility is enviable." Ron commented with defeat. "Neville was barely able to graze him with his spells and he is one of the best among us…"

"I suspect he can also control the elements." Muttered Hermione thoughtful. Nostalgia was still noticeable in her voice, but she had begun to calm down, as was fitting.

"What makes you say that, Mione?" Asked Ron, frowning.

"Did you see when he disarmed you, Neville?" Suddenly the auror's facial expression showed understanding and he nodded.

"It's possible. Nevertheless, there is something that worries me more… Do you remember Albus that before Snape's true loyalties were revealed to us by Potter, he mentioned that in some interrogations it seemed as if he handled Legilimency perfectly, perhaps even better than the Dark Lord himself?" Albus nodded thoughtfully. "I don't think it's just that."

"What do you mean?" Asked Dumbledore and Ron at the same time, disconcerted. Neville sighed in resignation.

"It's deeper than that. He must have trained in some kind of dark magic that he can do with his eyes, because when he was pointing at me with his dagger, he looked at me in the eyes and I felt as if I was falling asleep, I could not resist."

"If what you are saying is true, then we have more problems than we thought." Muttered Dumbledore, with his hands clasped together. He leaned back on his chair with an expression of indecipherable tiredness.

"Everything would have been better if he hadn't decided to join the Dark Lord…" Hermione muttered nostalgically.

"What did we say about saying 'would have been,' Mione? It doesn't matter what could have happened." Ron answered back. "He is now Voldemort's pet. Not even a hint of regret when he saw us…"

"Did you not feel any regrets, Ron?"

"What kind of question is that, Hermione? I didn't do anything that I need to be ashamed of!"

"When I asked him whether he felt ashamed of himself, he denied it and answered that it was our stupidity what was disgraceful." Commented Neville, lost in thought. "Do you think that was some sort of insinuation?"

The doors opened suddenly, letting see a disturbed Kingsley Shacklebolt who ran quickly toward them. Hypothetically, that small meeting was not to be interrupted, but something serious must have happened. The auror was really pale and by the look of the bags under his eyes, he had been without resting well for a while, as most employees at the ministry. His auror uniform looked a mess and his wand was always in sight, fastened to his belt.

"Kingsley? Is something wrong?" Asked Albus, frowning and thinking of what else could have happened that night.

"You are the ones in charge of looking into the attack to the muggle town, right?" The newcomer finally looked at the trio of aurors, who nodded baffled because of the sudden mention of a subject that was far from being a priority at that time. "Cor… Cornfoot has been assassinated."

"WHAT?" Ron stood up, suddenly recovering all the color he had lost that evening.

"Impossible!" Hermione exclaimed, following the example of his friend. "Nobody can enter without having an auror's license from the ministry!"

"Nobody entered the prison under the identity of an auror. In fact, if we go by what the barriers identified, nobody entered. However, it is impossible that Cornfoot committed suicide."

"Why?" Neville stared at Kingsley frowning, and he shuddered when he remembered something.

"I was asked to find you three so you see it in person since you are the ones in charge of the case… But given that we were under attack just now, it would be understood if you can't go and…"

"And have you clean up everything without us investigating before? No, of course not!" Interrupted Neville. Hermione turned to see him, angry.

"You cannot push yourself; you have to stay in bed, Neville…"

"Hermione, they just murdered a death eater under the nose of the ministry. This had not happened since they found Pullman death in the sports department about four months ago… That means that we were right, he knew something that he cannot tell anymore!"

"Dammit. What are we waiting for? Come one, Herm… We cannot let this go." The girl nodded with little conviction to the request of the red hair.

"I will go with you." Dumbledore said, standing up as well. The trio looked at him, astonished. Dumbledore never interfered in their investigations. "My instinct tells me there is something I will find interesting there." They look at each other; nonetheless, they did not say anything back.

* * *

_London, August 1st, 2004_

_Time: 1:00AM._

The members of the ministry were submersed in troubling silence. Even if it was a day of mourning, it was _too much_ for a simple attack that was repeated daily. Those who were visiting the ministry that day noticed that something else was wrong, but there were no clues in the press. What the community did not know, although not with certainty, was that the most substantial and disturbing news were censured for several reasons…

Hermione had only gone down a few times to the dungeons of the ministry; the task of watching prisoners was not part of her division. Nevertheless, she knew very well the conditions that must be fulfilled for the daily watches to be successful: absence of wands (or to have the covetous authorized ones), or dangerous objects, to possess the distinctive of a ministry auror, and the special object that the ministry provided to the guards to be guided in such darkness.

She felt unprotected without her wand. At any instant, one of those horrible prisoners could devise a way to escape between the thick bars in some twisted way and attack her from the back without her being able to see him or avoid it. Something like that had never happened, but… There was a first time for everything, and she hoped that day would not be the case. Besides, the hallway bustled as aurors came and went with solemn expressions. Some with consternation and horror carved on their faces.

The trio of aurors and Dumbledore soon understood the reason. They arrived to the cell in which Harry, hours before, had brutally murdered Cornfoot. There still lay the corpse of the traitor death eater. On the floor were several clues marked that the killer had left while other people were taking pictures of every detail in the scene of the crime.

Both Ron and Neville watched with bewilderment the dry blood that stained the floor and the shape the body of Cornfoot had taken after the torture. Hermione, however, felt some pain when imagining how everything had happened based on the expression of suffering in Cornfoot's face. Dumbledore, instead, calmly observed the scene, paying special attention to the striking details of the murder.

"How long ago did he die approximately?" Dumbledore asked Kingsley, who was right behind him.

"Two hours and a half at most… The intruder was here just moments before the beginning of the attack to Diagon Alley." Answered the auror, distraught.

Hermione kneeled next to the body, attempting to examine it, although the repugnance inhibited it significantly.

"How can someone be so cruel…?"

"Keep in mind, Mione…" Neville said, getting closer to hear. "That if Cornfoot had spoken, we would have acquired a great amount of information… His betrayal meant a lot to Voldemort. Plans that had been in the work for months could have perhaps been ruined with the statement of the death eater."

"It is obvious he did not commit suicide." Commented Ron.

"How could have Cornfoot managed to break most of his vital bones and excessively increase his blood pumping _on his own_? While suffering periodic cruciatus, not least…" One of the healers close to them said. Hermione shuddered to the list of tortures.

"The cause of death was stabbing." Deduced Hermione noticing the deep wound that Cornfoot had on the chest.

"How did the intruder manage to sneak in a knife?" Ron asked, frowning. "As I understand, there are many extremely powerful spells here against that."

A significant amount of dark magic was employed." Dumbledore pointed out after using a series of verification spells inside the cell. "Very advanced. Concealing charms could have been used…"

Hermione observed the vanished expression on Cornfoot's dark eyes. There was no doubt that he had recognized the killer before his life had been taken away. The fear in his expression was related to that. But, who could make him feel such extreme fear? As if the Dark Lord in person had been in the Ministry… The mere idea made her shiver… It must have been some very important member that he must have inside the Ministry…

Suddenly, she found a very feasible hypothesis for the identity of the murderer… Who had she seen act very suspiciously that same day, when she was leaving the Ministry to have a meeting with the Order, and whom she strongly suspected was a death eater…?

_Draco Malfoy._

"Malfoy." She muttered to her friends and the Hogwarts headmaster. Neville and Ron exchanged confused looks first, until they understood what she was referring to.

"Do you think it was Malfoy, Hermione?" Asked Dumbledore, thoughtful.

"Yesterday I saw him before going to headquarters… To me, he was acting weird…"

"Then, let's find him and have him give his statement." Suggested Ron, who seemed delighted to find a reason to imprison the blond.

"We cannot without evidence…" Albus reminded him.

"Mione's statement is not enough? Besides, he would be called as a suspect, not as a criminal."

"But why do you think it was him, Hermione?" Dumbledore insisted again.

Hermione bit her lower lip, remembering her encounter with Malfoy that same afternoon. Her instinct was telling her so: Cornfoot's murder had something to do with that abnormal attitude that the blond displayed. Her instinct never failed.

"I just know it. He had something to do with it… he might not be the _actual_ killer, but he must know something…"

His smile had been vicious, the kind that Draco never did, full of an alarming mystery. As informing her that he knew something she did not and, as such, he was superior. But he could not explain that to Neville, Ron, and Albus… That was an association that they would not understand.

* * *

_Time: 6:00AM._

He entered the room with rage showing in one of his movements. He did not care if he was disrespectful, _He_ had been disrespected! How could he have been accused of murdering a traitor death eater the day before, when he had actually been in the Fortress, fulfilling the orders of his Lord, reviewing the strategies for the attack?! Granger must be insane or hate him that much if she was seeing a perfect clone of him, walking calmly around the ministry…

And now his file (the one he had put so much effort in keeping clean to the eyes of those idiots who made up the elite inside the ministry) was stained because of Granger's stupid theory… how dared that mudblood _accuse him_?! She would pay for it… Everything that she had done in the past and specially that… He would inform his Lord and he… he would add her to the list of future victims… Oh, yes… He would enjoy seeing the insufferable know-it-all scream for mercy while pain shook every part of her body…

But he had to get rid of that image when he raised his grey eyes to face what would be provisional court. Some selected members of the Wizengamot, among them the old geezer, the golden trio of aurors, and some other member from the ministry… Ah, how could he have forgotten about MacMillan! The revered current minister…

Holding back the anger that flowed through his veins, he sat on the chair set for him. No chain tied him to it, only because there was no evidence against him. If he wanted, he could refuse to make a statement, but that would only add to the problems at hand… If he truly was innocent, then the use of Veritaserum on him should not be a problem, right?

It would be… He could reveal the well-kept secret that he was a death eater in front of those accusing and distrusting eyes, who would not hesitate sending him to the deepest prisons in the Ministry.

"Mr. Malfoy, we apologize for interrupting your evening… Surely you had many activities planned in your Schedule…" Began to say MacMillan, with whom he had a qualified friendship.

If Dumbledore and his own paid enough attention, they might have noticed the wink the minister gave him and the amusement hidden in his stern voice.

"There is no inconvenient, I would do anything to help the investigation that our _skilled_ aurors are carrying out, minister." Concealed irony was in his whispering voice.

Both Ron and Neville noticed the mockery and would have replied if it were not for a gesture from Hermione, asking them both to keep civility. After all, Draco was there, being accused without any evidence… The least the blond could do was putting them in doubt and therefore, they had to show confidence and determination.

"Were you in the ministry yesterday afternoon?" Asked Dumbledore calmly.

"No. It was my day off, so I was with my family."

"However, Miss Granger, here present, insists that she saw you on a hallway in the third floor, at approximately six thirty in the afternoon. Is that correct?" Replied MacMillan.

"No."

"Would you allow for the use of Veritaserum?" Requested a member of the Wizengamot.

Draco gave an imperceptible shudder, but he could not refuse. Nowadays, Veritaserum was allowed to be used by the Wizengamot in any case, as insignificant as it were.

"Go ahead."

One of them walked closer to him with a small glass flask that contained the potion, which could have been water by its colorless appearance. Draco drank the few drops placed in his mouth without resistance and began to work on his mental barriers at the same time. As a spy inside the ministry, Voldemort had taught him tricks to overcome the truth serum. Perhaps not completely, but it would protect essential information, like his allegiance to the dark side.

Physically, he mimicked all the symptoms of a well applied truth serum. Inside, he was laughing at the Ministry's stupidity. Both Dumbledore and MacMillan leaned forward with eagerness, and began their questioning.

"Were you in the ministry yesterday afternoon?"

"No."

"What were you doing?"

"Looking over some files at my manor." He handled the Veritaserum so as not to say 'looking over strategies in the Fortress.'

"Did you come across Miss Granger?"

"No."

"Do you know anything related to the death of Cornfoot?"

"Absolutely nothing."

All the members of the Wizengamot observed each other astonished. Those were answers that left them without clues to continue with the investigation. Hermione, however, observed Malfoy fixedly. She had no doubt that she had seen him… How could that be? There were many possibilities: Malfoy, handling the Veritaserum, that the person she had seen had not actually been Malfoy, or that she had been placed under a confundus charm at some point…

How could that be?!

"Are you a death eater, Mr. Malfoy?" Asked Dumbledore calmly.

The members of the Wizengamot opened their mouths to object that he could not ask that question in such context, but they kept quiet because of the threatening look that the Hogwarts headmaster gave them.

"Yy… No." The eyebrows of the old man rose with incredulity.

"Are you a death eater, Mr. Malfoy?" He repeated.

"No."

That had been close…

* * *

_London, August 1st, 2004_.

_Time: 12:30AM_

He smiled boastfully while walking through the hallways of the Fortress. That had been one of the best nights of his life, if anyone dared to ask. Perhaps not the best, but it was among the top ten, certainly…

Seeing Neville Longbottom, the star auror and the golden-boy of Dumbledore, kneeled at his feet. How he wished he had seen the face of the old geezer when he found out of the events at Diagon Alley! He was sure it would not sit well with him. That and the murder of the traitor Cornfoot… They had been left with nothing, just as they deserved. Incompetent. And they still thought they could win the war?

However, he was receiving reproachful and angry looks from many. They were criticizing him for not killing the auror and making them retreat when the enjoyment could have continued. But Harry did not want to win so soon. That had been a slap to Neville, to see if he could be woken up… He wanted a worthy rival, not one who would attack him with first year charms… Next time he would not forgive it… He was giving him Time.

_Time… Burns without leaving ashes…_

He entered Lord Voldemort's study and bowed. He raised his green eyes until they were at the same level as those of his Lord, in a humble stance, but instead of finding assurance in him, he found rage… Rage that he had never seen in such intensity. And for the first time, it was directed at him. That also made the difference.

Harry knew how to act in those occasions. He lowered his eyes to the floor and remained silence. Silence that lasted what seemed like an eternity and that had as an objective to cause nervousness. However, the young man did not regret or feared anything. He kept his mind blank the entire time, something that made Voldemort know how much his heir had progressed since the last time he had to chasten him.

"Filldeserp. Your performance from last night has come to my attention…"

The Dark Lord's study was a broad room, with book cases on the sides. In the center was the desk, with all those valuable parchments and extravagant utensils on it. There was a warm chimney on a side while right across the room, on the wall, hung the crest of the Slytherin family. The study without its dweller provided both a respectful and intimidating environment. With its dweller… It depended on his mood.

"My Lord, I come to report the consequences of the attack."

"And what are those?" Voldemort looked at him impatiently. He wanted to get to the point of the discussion.

"Six members of the ministry from our list have been captured, while we had a loss of seventeen death eaters from our ranks… Our wounded are being treated in the towers while the prisoners have been placed in the dungeons."

"And what about Longbottom, Filldeserp?" Muttered the Dark Lord in a hiss, expressing his disagreement in his action. Harry swallowed before answering.

"I left him alive, my Lord."

"Can I know why?"

"Longbottom does not know how to fight, Tom. You know how are those who are dominated by Dumbledore, manipulated and all… They have lesser intelligence than us." He said mockingly. "I made sure to humiliate him and deflate him… But… At the last second I decided to leave him alive because… he is the only one left for them. I want to have fun with him on more occasions."

"And why not take him prisoner, Harry?!"

"What would be the fun in that, Tom?" Voldemort looked at him frowning, but he did not object more.

"What about Cornfoot?" Harry smiled viciously, remembering the event.

"Death." Voldemort's scarlet eyes shined with delight.

"How?"

"I used all the torture spells that we have created." Harry said in an indifferent tone. "Do not doubt he suffered the consequences of his betrayal… By this time, they must be finding his body in one of the security rounds."

"You can leave, Filldeserp."

Voldemort's heir bowed and turned to leave, but he heard Voldemort calling him from his desk. He turned expectantly and found his Lord pointing his wand firmly at him.

"So this does not happen again… _Crucio!"_

* * *

Filldeserp made himself more comfortable on the couch on which he rested, with his eyes closed and his messy black hair all over the place; that was an image of Voldemort's heir that nobody had seen for a long time. It was not a moment of weakness or distraction, merely of rest and of lowering his overworked mental barriers to a minimum. Perhaps, even a moment of meditation.

After all, meditating did not directly entail regret. In fact, it had no connection. He had lost all embarrassment and consciousness in his acts. He did not care anymore whether people died or stopped dying; nor worried about the time it would take Voldemort to rule England. He did not fear the present or the future, he could foresee what would happen and he was ready to face it. Unlike in the past, when surprises and disappointments had been many… When he had felt guilty of the deaths of the people he knew and ashamed of his mistakes… He had been too weak and scared to face the situation with determination, to see everything with clarity and through his own eyes. He had been dominated, a tool, to the full service of Dumbledore.

Most people would say that he was now a tool in the hands of Voldemort. He could be… Nevertheless, Voldemort had helped him grow in many ways that Dumbledore had feared he would develop. He had worked his power in all fields possible (or at least he believed so). He was the heir of Voldemort, not any death eater… As such, his old enemy treated him as an equal, something that was rarely seen.

Harry had benefits that nobody else had; obviously he lived in the fortress, in one of the most luxurious towers. At that moment he was in the main room, where only Voldemort and the odd elf had entered since he inhabited it, which meant… six years. The door of his room was to the right while to his left he had access to his private library; in front of him was the potions lab and next to it, a training room.

Usually, he was training, practicing different potions, or reading some book on Dark Magic during his "free time." When they were preparing an attack, everything intensified and constant amounts of strategic preparation and meetings were added, which lately was very often. Sometimes he went out to fulfill a secret mission, but his strength had and would always be in being in action.

But for the first time, he was not doing his usual routine. He did not tend to stop to rest for a few minutes, however… He was exhausted, perhaps not to the extreme of fatigue, but… he had wasted a lot of energy in the ministry, added to his recreational duel against Longbottom… and now the cruciatus that had settled a little his calmness. Nevertheless, the consequences were terrible: a sharp headache and tiredness he had not felt for a while.

He would need a potion to calm down the pain. Unfortunately, he had not prepared any against this in the last few weeks, which meant he would have to call an elf to get him one from the collective cabinet… Damn, he hated depending on someone else's work, but that was the only way he could continue his routine the next day…

He snapped his fingers and in an instant a house elf attended his call. After instructing him and waiting a couple of minutes for his return, the required potion found itself on the table in front of him. He examined it with his eyes carefully, making sure that the potion was the right one, and he then took the flask and drank in one gulp all its contents. He put the flask back on the table and…

Sleep overcame him.

* * *

_The wind was blowing strongly, with unnatural frenzy, in the opposite direction to the one he was walking. The ground was completely covered by white snow, full of purity and innocence. But he was indifferent to that cozy and honest air that the landscape wanted to inspire on him. Nothing would blind him again, it was only snow that in the future would be stained by blood…_

_He cleared that pessimistic thought from his mind while he raised his eyes and found the forbidden forest also decorated in white. There were some young people playing on the snow and laughing naïvely, without a care for the present… or the future. He watched them with neutrality, not letting his disagreement and annoyance be seen._

_He walked to the Quidditch pitch, not stopping to greet his housemates who smiled at him as he walked pass them. That heroic image that the magical community had of him had increased in the last few months. Everyone supported him. They felt reassured by his presence and openly showed it. They trusted him just as much as they trusted Dumbledore._

_He sat on the empty stands. The pitch was empty and the only noise came from the wind. An absolute calmness buzzed in Harry's ears while he allowed himself to wander in his thoughts._

_From there he had an excellent view of the Hogwarts castle, which for many years he had considered a home. How ironic. He sighed with resignation. He could see the castle celebrating another Christmas with joy, all fake… But nobody noticed that small detail, only him. He did not share the feeling and was not blind by it. It was merely another day, another waste of time._

_He had lived almost all of his Christmas at Hogwarts. Well… Except his fifth year, but he did not wish to remember that time. His godfather, Sirius, was death and there was nothing to do about it. Except revenge… Something he was hoping would not take much longer. The pain of his death had left him with the passing of years; however, it was a big part of his past. It had marked his time; it had soothed Harry and had showed him the real world._

_He regretted that his godfather had died for a lost cause, for one that he would be one of the main causes, but… It was what was best for him and where he belonged. He did not want any more burden or remorse. He did not want, again, to be demanded for more than he could give. Hopes were placed in vain on him. It was impossible to win and it was not worth it._

_Why was it not worth it? Because he could never defeat Voldemort, an experienced wizard, who knew what he was doing and that in most cases, his actions were successful. Besides… he had found he shared some characteristics with his enemy. Their personalities and their pasts where not so different and… He found his presence gratifying. He treated him with confidence and respect, and he talked with the only truth he possessed, as cruel and crude as it was. There were no lies between them, and that was something Voldemort had learned he must fulfill when dealing with Harry. The boy was sick of hypocrisies, of endless masks._

_He leaned back against the stand and closed his eyes with despondency. Nothing was worth it and that idea left him with unexplainable emptiness. Maybe it was because he was not allowing himself to feel any anguish over his coming treason, or simply because he could not find a reason to hold unto life anymore. When fighting, one held to something to not succumb. And that was what he was missing, as much as he supported Voldemort's views and all that, they were not the argument for his betrayal._

_What was the reason behind his actions?_

"_Don't you feel cold, Harry?"_

_He was surprised and he would not deny it. Actually, he was very startled when he heard that soft voice above him. He turned to connect looks with Hermione, who was standing a stand higher than he was. She quickly walked down and sat next to him, her face showing a cautious and discreet expression, while her eyes betrayed her showing care and worry._

_Harry shrugged his shoulder, without directly looking at her. His green eyes looking at the pitch, as if there was a Quidditch game going on that Hermione had not yet noticed._

"_Not really."_

"_I guess you are wearing enough coats, so you must not really feel it." Said Hermione, looking at him out of the corner of her eyes._

_It was true. His clothes were very warm and each part of his body was protected from the cold, with the exception of his face. He was wearing a dark blue, almost black, scarf. He was most likely the only Gryffindor that did not wear his house colors with pride. His cheeks had an odd and pleasant scarlet color that contradicted the coldness in his eyes._

_Unfortunately, Hermione did not have that luck. She was only wearing the Hogwarts uniform, a scarf with Gryffindor colors and a light coat. Harry quickly deduced that the girl had not expected such cold or that perhaps she had gone out in a hurry… Looking for him?_

"_Are you cold?" Asked Harry, not able to stop himself from smirking._

"_No, I'm fine." His friend lied while she hugged herself. Harry raised an eyebrow skeptic and laughed._

"_Come on, Hermione, you cannot deceive me. Besides, it's really obvious." Granger blushed, but did not object. "Why are you here?"_

"_Am I bothering you? It's just… In the last few days we've barely spent any free time together and…"_

"_It's because the NEWTs are getting closer, Hermione." Harry excused himself with a lie._

"_Do you care more about your grades than about your best friends, Harry?" She did not get a reply. "We love you, Harry, and miss you. Why don't you talk to us anymore? Have we done something wrong?"_

"_I can't waste my time on trivial matters." Answered Harry harshly. He could almost see Hermione's teary eyes staring at him, but he ignored them. The girl took a deep breath, holding back a sob that was fighting to leave his throat, and faced the situation._

"_I don't know you anymore, Harry. What is going on? Ron and Neville think is not such a big deal; but I don't think is something to take lightly. Don't you see we need you?"_

_Harry looked at Hermione to the eyes for the first time. Those shining almonds, honest and brave, that showed how much pain and anguish the present caused in her. Harry sighed internally. Hermione was the one who deserved his betrayal the least. He had to admit that she was the only person at Hogwarts that truly worried about him; however, she did not have the strength to reach him._

_The careless attitudes of Ron and Neville only confirmed his theory with respect to the "friendship" he maintained with them… Hermione was the only one who insisted and believed that Harry's wish to be alone was not just a whim. She believed there were secret reasons, and she was the only one who had the truth on her side. It was unfortunate she did not have a clue to guide her…_

"_Come on, Hermione, you won't die if we stop talking…"_

"_Harry…"_

"_Friendship does not last forever, Hermione. Nothing lasts forever."_

"_What?"_

_Harry did not pay attention to his friend's bewilderment and put his arms around her, holding her close to him. She enjoyed the sudden display of affection and, forgetting what he had said just seconds earlier, she smiled at him warmly. He did not smile back, merely closed his eyes, disengaging himself from reality._

"_You aren't cold anymore, right?"_

* * *

He woke up on the couch restless, with confusion overwhelming him. He had buried his past deeply inside of him, from where memories would not arise, and the last time it had happened was the first summer he lived in the fortress.

The memory had also been very odd. Not only what he had dreamed about, but that it had been one of the last times he had talked directly to Hermione. After that Christmas in his seventh year, he had avoided her as often as he could and had only exchanged a few words because of classes.

He stood up dignified, making sure not to totter, and he walked to his room, where he immediately lay down on the bed. He had only slept a few hours and he still had enough time to recover his energy. Not that sleeping on a couch was recommended…

But the effects of the potion had incredibly disappeared when they were supposed to last for at least three hours straight… Which brought serious problems as he suspected he would suffer from insomnia in the near future, and he could not take another sleeping potion as it would be too much on his system…

Damn. Another night he would spend staring at the ceiling and at the decorations in his room…

His room was spacious and the colors that decorated it were mainly black, green, silver, and red, in their darkest tones. They did not create a sinister environment, but one calm and serene. His bed was large and padded, while his wardrobe had numerous outfits for different occasions; there was no style that differed from the usual four colors.

On one side he had a small bookcase, with his _favorite_ books to read on restless nights. On the other stood out a door that led to the bathroom while on a corner was a small bar, where his favorite drinks were always found.

He stood up as he found no reason to continue in bad and walked to the bar, pouring himself some mead. He set his eyes and his thoughts into nothingness before taking a gulp of his drink. He closed his eyes, disparaging the burning in his throat, and automatically moved the glass closer to his lips. This time the taste was nicer and soothing.

_To forget_. That is what it was about. It was about forgetting everything and everyone. About forgetting every problem and victory, forgetting all pride and humiliations… It did not matter how many people he had killed or how he was becoming similar to his previous enemy. It did not matter how he had betrayed his closest friend or how much suffering he had gone through in his life because of Dumbledore and his manipulations… How much the magical society had demanded of him, how many illusions were broken when he switched sides… How much pain he caused Hermione…

That was an apogee. He had _never_ thought of one person who had intervened on his past at Hogwarts during those moments when he had felt deficient. Why now?! No, he did not regret it. There was no guilt in his heart. He did not have a conscience for that anymore. Then, why?! Why did his memories insist now, emerging from the darkness?

He squeezed the glass with more strength and it, not resisting the pressure, broke, causing slightly deep cuts on Harry's hand, and blood stains on the polished vert carpet, among the many glass shards all over it.

Harry paid no attention to the mess and observed his hand engrossed. He felt the piercing pain of his wounds, although they lacked importance. He had gone through worse. He was worried about all the turmoil he had suffered in just one day. The incursion to the Ministry, his encounter with Granger, the attack, letting Longbottom live, being tortured by his Lord (something that had not happen since his first years next to the Dark Lord), and that cursed dream/memory, which now threatened to break his mental barriers. Had all those years of training had been for nothing?! He was becoming _weak_!

_Pathetically weak_…

He snapped his tongue with skepticism. It was bothersome to feel so vulnerable. He had never feared his memories, but he did fear regret. He feared that something would flourish and that he would come to the realization that everything had been wrong, essentially wrong… He had become a cold and insensitive being toward the world, but he feared that all of it would crumble, that he would recover his senses.

It made him remember that in the dream/memory he had questioned why he had decided to join the Dark Lord… He knew the answer for many years now: He had nothing else to lose. Nothing mattered. He knew how everything would end. Nothing kept him standing. He lived because committing suicide was for cowards. Just that. Nothing made sense and that encouraged him to follow his revengeful instincts and murder ideals. But if suddenly, _something_ were to become logical, his house of cards would fall apart.

_And everything would be in vain._

He groaned with frustration while muttering a healing charm on his wounds. After a moment of slight pain, his wounds closed and the blood was absorbed. Nothing remained that would reveal what had happened. Only the glass shards on the floor were evidence of his negligence.

He leaned against the wall behind him and after sighing in resignation, he made the glass disappear. A new mask of coldness and indifference set on his pale features. His thoughts darkened and his feelings were restricted to nothingness. That would not happen again, and he swore it by his magical abilities. Naturally, the heir of Voldemort, the so called Filldeserp and _deceased_ Harry Potter, had to stand by his profession and status.

_Nothing lasts forever…_


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** This story and characters do not belong to me. The characters belong to the amazing J. K. Rowling, and the story originally belongs to Parvati-Blossom, who has wonderfully agreed to let me translate it. If able, you should really consider reading the original version in Spanish.

**Warning: **Some chapters may contain strong language and images. Torture is a common occurrance in the dark side, please keep that in mind.

Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you are enjoying the story! And thank you to those who left reviews!

* * *

_I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar._

_I am the son and heir of nothing in particular._

**Chapter 4**

_London, August 5th, 2004_

_Time: 10:35AM_

The soft rays of the sun shined brightly that day, even if for many it seemed disheartening and endless. Nevertheless, they gave energy to wake up and encouraged the plans for the day, despite the chaotic environment.

However, there were two people who did not share the warmth of such a beautiful summer day, locked behind the walls of the Fortress and with only artificial lights to illuminate them.

"My Lord."

Harry bowed, feeling Voldemort's scarlet eyes analyzing him after attending to his call from only minutes prior. He saw in him suspicion and mistrust, but Potter remained quiet, not showing any expression, and awaiting the orders of his Lord. He had foreseen that he would find out of the events of the night before… Of the turmoil he had gone through… The gossipy elves probably had something to do with it, aside from the alarms placed in the tower… He was most likely aware of the power burst.

Besides, Filldeserp's pride, which could always be seen in his stance and in his eyes, was outstandingly absent that morning. His expression lacked the usual confidence and neutrality, although not many would be able to notice the subtle change. Among them was Voldemort, who was certainly not satisfied with the situation.

Filldeserp imagined it was an effect of the alcohol he drank the night before. It had completely thrown him off balance. Perhaps it had not been the best course of actions, but… It had been the only way to avoid conflict. He still did not understand how he had been able to dream of a memory and, as much as he justified himself by saying that it had been beyond his choice, it had been a failure. Failure that in a twisted way had demoralized him.

_His shields were not as impregnable as he presumed…_

"What happened last night, Filldeserp?" Asked Voldemort, narrowing his eyes. Harry did not answer. There was no answer for that, and besides… he knew his Lord was aware of the circumstances. "Perhaps you are too accustomed to passive missions and lost practice and rhythm…" He said with accusation noticeable in his voice.

"It is not that, my Lord, I…"

"I believe" Interrupted him Voldemort, anticipating the excuse that Harry was about to tell "I taught you how to control yourself in any situation that could present itself, Filldeserp. Or perhaps those pathetic aurors had an effect on you?"

Harry held his gaze with determination, attempting not to reveal the truth behind them. Only the Dark Lord and he were in his study, and Harry was thankful for that. He knew that such failure would have consequences, and he did not want to be humiliated in front of them, the useless death eaters… He could still recover, correct the mistake…

The aurors had not affected him. Nothing in the attack had affected him. There was no reason for such disarray, and that was the worst part! He did not know from where it had come from, he could not eliminate it…

"I cannot allow _my _heir to have weaknesses, in particular, emotional ones…" Voldemort pulled his wand out of his robe in a threatening attitude and stared at him. "You need to relearn the Laws again, Harry. I will personally take care of it."

Without saying more, the wand transfigured into a leather whip, one that Harry had seen being used in tortures… he had even employed it recently, knowing the intense effect it had on its victims. Because of it, his body was waiting expectantly, knowing what would happen and believing himself capable of facing it. It was necessary… Tom was right… His system could now allow such weakness; he had to reject it and exterminate it. He had to learn. The answer had been so _basic_!

Voldemort made a fast movement with the whip, slashing the tense silence that had been present. Harry's muscles contracted themselves with anticipation. He saw the maniac glow in the scarlet eyes of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named… It was all meant to cause panic in him, but he had faced similar situations in the past… In missions that were much worse than that. The benefits were obvious: his face was impassive and no thought was crossing his mind.

Out of nowhere, metal chains surrounded his pale wrists and he felts his skin burn to the touch of the ductile, malleable and strong metal. The more he tried to resist the pain, the more it intensified… As much as he tried over and over to release himself from such cuffs, nothing reduced the torture… He was bound to that torture and could not escape. And the pain reminded him of his own helplessness in the past; there was no room for powerlessness and regret.

Surprisingly, his body convulsed when extreme pain overwhelmed his feet. He pursed his lips hard and bit his tongue in an attempt not to scream when he understood what was happening: Nails had pierced his feet, his point of balance. He never thought that such chastisement could lead to such chaos, to so much suffering… The feeling of being slowly pierced, of losing all support and feeling himself falter… Without being able to evade it.

Darkness surrounded him. The only thing he felt was pain… pain deep in the depths of his soul, not only physical. He could smell his blood, which extensively stained his clothes, his wrists burning… The smells combined were nauseating. Unintelligible voices spoke on his head, talking of things he was not capable to understand, things too distant to reach him… Images flashed showing him different realities, parallel to his own. Everything was nonsensical and excruciating.

When he began thinking the punishment could not get worse, he felt the whip on his chest, slashing his elegant robe. He bit his tongue with more impetus, finding strength where he could so as not to be weakened, but the taste of fresh blood invaded his mouth.

Impious hits on his back and shoulder followed, leaving him completely unprotected and defeated. His skin teared and he felt hell itself on his body. A dagger went over his superficial wounds, opening them more and making them burn. Cold and Fire focused on the same place. Skin and Blood.

But he never screamed. Out of his mouth came no sound that could tell the suffering that overwhelmed his body. He could not reason what he was going through, he could only feel… A pure and plaintive feeling. Nothingness and Everything were fused in his mind at that moment. Nothing made sense… _Nothing_.

Oddly, the pain on his wrists began to decrease, while the nails slowly pulled back from his body. The only thing that continued was the whipping. He could sense the Dark Lord's heavy and constant breathing over him, who seemed to be using all his energy on his assault, in provoking so much pain so that he would never repeat that mistake or make any other. It could be said that he was Educating him, that he was reminding him of his position in his elite and the responsibilities it entailed.

There was an unsettling pause. Minutes went by, but he was not paying attention. Harry did not have the courage to open his eyes, much less to gaze above the ground. His head was lowered and his entire body shuddered. He could not control his body's reactions, it was inevitable.

"Remember this every time you disobey me, Filldeserp."

Scarce and bitter tears came out of his eyes, tightly closed. The only real sensation was pain, the only weakness he showed… And one Voldemort had barely discerned. He spit the blood out of his mouth and coughed. It was the last thing Voldemort allowed him before the final blow.

The blow of Reality.

In the blink of an eye, everything vanished. He was in the same room, in the same moment… Just in a different situation.

He fell to the ground, on his knees, when he lost balance after he stopped feeling the imaginary chains that had tied him and kept him standing. He raised his eyes and stared at Voldemort, who observed him unaffected, although a slight snare could be noticed. Harry's clothes were intact, and his skin was as white and unharmed as always. There was no blood on the floor, nor on his body or on his Lord's robes… No sign that someone had been tortured in that study.

It did not take long for Harry to understand what had happened, and he realized that it was worse than the physical damage that the Dark Lord could have inflicted. It was the feeling of not knowing what was true or false; of being deceived and… Chaos. He felt dizzy knowing he had been lost in a different dimension… A dimension that did not exist.

It had all been a mental trick. A trick in which the torture he had gone through did not exist in reality. He had been manipulated by the Dark Lord. Most likely the sham had began when he looked at Voldemort directly in the eyes. Then, he employed all the illusion tactics caused by the visual contact… The pain, the anguish, and the despair had been real… But not the wounds, or the chains, or the nails, or the whipping…

Voldemort walked toward him and leaned so that his eyes where at the same height. He held his chin possessively, searching in his eyes something unusual. He smiled satisfied when he did not find it.

"As you can tell, Harry… The power of hypnosis and confusion are very advantageous in this kind of torture." Said Voldemort.

Harry shuddered as a secondary effect from the torture and closed his eyes tightly, to suppress further convulsions.

"Not only to be used, but also to be detected and eliminated. As excellent as your Occlumency skills are… Your mind is weak to this kind of torture as it is unfamiliar to its characteristics." He paused. "You have to get better, Harry. Those memories you have from your time at Hogwarts are a consequence of longings buried so deep you do not even know they exist."

Harry's eyes widened, stunned by his words. How could his Lord know about that dream, which he kept hidden behind many mental barriers…?

"Your mind was completely vulnerable during the torture, so I was able to examine…" Explained Voldemort, suspecting what Harry had been thinking. "I hope this torture helps you rethink and suppress all regret, Filldeserp, or I will repeat it as many times as necessary… Or until I have to make it happen."

Harry nodded in silence, with his mind spinning due to the information received and the confusion his body had gone through. The last thing he saw before his sight blurred and he lost consciousness was Voldemort's arms around him in a fatherly embrace, not allowing him to fall to the ground and firmly holding him.

* * *

_London, August 7th, 2004_

_Time: 9:30PM_

Ronald Weasley entered quietly to the apartment he shared with his coworker, Neville Longbottom. He turned on the lights and closed the door with caution, without making any noise. He walked across the living room while contemplating it thoughtfully. It was simple and without many decorations due to constant moves. There was a big window on the wall to his right, which provided a great view to one of London's main avenues, where thousands of muggle vehicles drove by daily.

He sat on a very comfortable crimson couch and sighed with nostalgia, remembering the date that was languidly coming closer. August 9th… A day that every year brought memories, guilt, regret, and… silence that should not be kept. It had been seven years since he had committed the only crime of his life; a crime nobody knew he was guilty of… And it would continue to be that way, otherwise, if he were to confess, he would lose the trust and love of Herm and Neville, the support from the Order, and his freedom… He had never wanted to do so, but… He had unintentionally become another Peter Pettigrew, another coward and traitor…

But at that moment, when he was asked to choose between life and death… He chose life, condemning two others with his actions. He preferred his own skin before risking losing everything for those whom he loved. It had been a teenage mistake… He thought he was doing what was best for him, that he was showing outstanding self-worth and independence… However, now that he thought about it carefully… It was never for him. He was never threatened because he was Ronald Weasley. No, it was because he had been Harry Potter's best friend and it was another way to… another way to stir him up. Of making him fall and lose hope.

And they definitely got what they wanted.

**- Flash Back-**

_London, August 8th, 1997_

It was a beautiful and peaceful summer afternoon. It was a shame they could not enjoy it by playing quidditch, with the cold breeze whipping their faces. Locked inside the general headquarters of the Order, they could not even take a walk on Diagon Alley because they were on a brutal war, where nobody knew when or where the next attack would be… There was fear of going out and never coming back. Every goodbye said hid behind it the fear that it would be the last time for telling people how much they were loved. Many preferred not doing so, not knowing what they missed.

He was in the room he had been sharing with Harry for three years. He could not believe how fast years had gone by. He was seventeen and about to go through his last year at Hogwarts, to then work as an auror. How things had changed… He thought he had matured and improved. He thought he had a future and had finally found his place.

Harry was on his bed, reading a book about Defense Against the Dark Arts he had bought days before through owl service, when Herm entered the room not even bothering to knock before opening the door. Her face glowed with happiness and expectation, with three thick envelopes on her right hand, which she was shaking in the air.

"Our results have come!" She exclaimed, as if she was saying that Voldemort had finally been destroyed.

"How exciting!" Ron said sarcastically. However, Harry closed his book in an instant and straightened up with interest.

_How things had changed…_

Hermione handed the letters to their respective owners and sat on Harry's bed, next to him, to open her own letter. When reading its contents, a smile filled with pure joy and pride appeared on her beautiful face and hugged Harry in her excitement. He laughed softly to her reaction and interrupted the embrace seconds later, to finish reading his own mail

"I passed all of my classes." Ron said, although his face showed slight disappointment. "Defense and Charms with Outstanding, although my level in Potions and Transfiguration went down again. I'll have to put a lot more effort if I want to get accepted into the Academy…"

"I will help you." Hermione offered kindly.

"I'm sure you've gotten Outstanding in everything…" Ron muttered, with bitter mockery. She shook her head.

"I've only gotten an Acceptable in Herbology… The same in Astronomy…" Ron looked at her truly surprised.

"Impossible! How about you, Harry?" He asked, giving attention for the first time to his friend, who had grabbed his Defense book again.

Harry smiled with pride and satisfaction, pointing at his letter for Hermione and Ron to read it themselves. The young girl was faster than the red-hair and was the first one to read it, not believing what her eyes were seeing. Her astonishment was shared by Ron, who looked at Harry with his mouth open.

"Outstanding in everything!" Ron blurted, full of envy and disbelief.

"Aha." Harry said, as if it was nothing.

"That's great, Harry!" Hermione hastened to say before Ron said anything else.

Granger turned the letter to see what else it said. It did not mention any missing grades, nor had any comments from any school representative with respect to the accomplishments of the Gryffindor student; what it said was an announcement of him being chosen as Head Boy, granted because of his academic and moral achievements throughout his six years at Hogwarts and the results of his lasts tests. Hermione could not help but feel disappointed, feeling that she had been usurped, and above all, by one of his best friends. Nevertheless, she was happy for Harry, he really deserved it. She was not blind to not have noticed the effort and attention her friend had began to put on his studies.

On the other hand, Ron would most likely say that it had not been just that, but that it had been because he was Harry Potter, against whom nobody could compete… He was Dumbledore's favorite and the idolized hero of the Magical Community…

"You're Head Boy, Harry! That is fantastic, congratulations." She smiled, although it looked forceful… But she did it. Unlike Ron, who showed anger in his eyes.

"Thanks, Hermione." – Answered Harry, not giving it importance.

They continued talking for a while more, although the manner was colder and more distant compared to how it had been years before. Harry had not paid much attention to them for months, and Ron had begun to get along better with friends other than the Boy-Who-Lived. Hermione was not sure what had happened that caused such event, it had just… happened. Distance had damaged the trio, which in that summer had been forced to spend almost every hour together. Hermione tried to mend their friendship, but since she was the only one who seemed to want that… Her efforts were in vain.

That night they had dinner with the rest of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, to which they were part of since the last term. Even if they did not attend all the meetings, or were aware of everything the adult members handled, at least they were aware of the situation. Ron and Hermione were extremely excited and thankful for it, but Harry seemed indifferent, to everyone's surprise, and to the suspicion of some.

Ron found himself alone that night, laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling immersed in his thoughts. Harry was wandering the hallways, as he tended to do every night until he decided to go to bed. After all, the house belonged to him by law since Sirius had died. Not only the house, but also a big part of the Black's fortune.

Something incredible happened then. An owl entered through the window, located at the top of the room, and flew toward him. Ron watched it suspiciously, since he had never seen it before. It had black feathers and eyes the same color. It carried a letter. The odd thing was that the Order tended to check all mail sent to headquarters and handed it to them personally… Hmm… What danger could there be? It probably was a letter from Neville…

He took the letter and immediately the owl took flight and left the room. Ron could not be more confused. He observed the letter with detail and opened it carefully, finding a blank parchment. He took it and examined it, but there was nothing written on it. He pulled out his wand from his pocket and casted a couple of invisible ink revealing charms, but it did not work. For a few seconds, he was suspicious… But he decided it was an insignificant piece of parchment and burnt it with a touch of his wand, not knowing that was the worst thing he could have done.

He leaned back on the table again and without further thought, he fell asleep.

* * *

_He was walking on the familiar hallways at Hogwarts, with his eyes looking ahead of him. People were walking by next to him, not paying attention to him or saying a word. He continued his walk to the Great Hall. He crashed against a couple of people, but none showed any anger or desire to apologize, they simply continued as if nothing had happened. Not looking at him. As if he did not exist…_

_He ran toward the Gryffindor table, where he saw Hermione and Neville happily having lunch, talking about an upcoming test on Defense. He tried to talk to them, but no sound came out of his mouth. He tried several times, having the same result: silence. He then decided to catch Neville's attention, tapping him on the shoulder. If he could not make a sound, touch should work… However, his friend did not show any reaction. He waved his hand in front of Hermione's eyes, but she ignored it… Or did not see it._

_He pulled back a couple of steps, feeling hopelessness overwhelming him. He was invisible and incorporeal to everyone… They could not hear him, or feel him. He was no one. A no one in that place. Nobody seemed worried about his absence…_

_He ran toward the exit, driven by his perception. He avoided people, as they would bump into him and would be completely unaffected due to their unawareness of him. But he was not unaffected. He reached the grounds, where voices and laughter did not decline but increased in intensity. He ran and ran, until he reached the lake. He got close to it, thinking that maybe he could see his reflection on it. However, the water did not show anything different._

_He felt himself faint. There was no point in being there…If nobody could notice him. He was lost, alone and… annoyed. He could not believe what he was seeing, what he was reasoning, what was happening…_

_He let his instinct guide him, he had nothing to lose… He did not know what to do, nor was interested on knowing why his body was leading him in the opposite direction. He was only aware that the speed of his steps increased to quickly go around the lake._

_He was so inattentive that he did not see the obstacle in his way. A big and sharp rock that made him fall suddenly to the ground, hitting himself hard and feeling stunned. He felt a sting on his right cheek and took his hand there, his fingers encountering fresh blood._

_Unconsciously, he turned his eyes to the surface of the lake, where his reflection surprisingly appeared. It was not a hopeful image. His face showed bags under his eyes and distraught, his deep blue eyes were sadder and his freckles did not seem as agreeable as they used to. His hair fell over his face graceless… lifeless._

_A shadow covered him. Through the water's reflection, he saw someone he did not know behind him. The unknown individual pulled out a dagger out of his robe and took impulse to stab him with it. Ron tried to turn and defend himself, but his body did not get the order from his overwhelmed brain. He only managed to close his eyes and wait for the dagger to wound him, in a coward and devastating gesture._

_However, the lethal blow never came. He waited in vain, until he had enough courage to open his eyes to see what was happening. He found himself in an altered scene, where shadows abounded and surrounded him, not leaving him with any possible escape. He felt solitude more than ever; he felt the pain, the anguish… The hopelessness… Inside and out of his heart… The prison that Darkness had over him. He could barely move. He felt as if he was suffocating because oxygen was naturally lacking in that place._

_It was then that an evil voice resounded in his mind._

"_You are next, Ronald Weasley. Choose what you want: To live or to die. To live requires sacrifices… I will only ask you to obey one of my orders and I will forgive your impertinence. Otherwise, death will follow you…_

He woke up, completely scared and bewildered. His breathing was hectic and cold sweat covered his forehead. It had been a long time since he had the kind of nightmares which, when he woke up, made him shake involuntarily. Besides, he had never felt so confused and disoriented…

He watched his surroundings to make sure he was in his room at headquarters. On the other side was Harry, resting peacefully, apparently not having any nightmares harassing him. He now understood how his friend felt whenever dreams that appeared to be real attacked him. There was no balance between reality and fantasy.

Likewise, he knew that everything had been a product of his imagination. It was most likely a wish from his subconscious, a desire to be part of the action and not a secondary character.

He stood up slowly and walked to the bathroom to wash his face and to try to revive his spirit. It was in vain, he raised his head to look at himself on the mirror and saw his image. He had to hold on the closest piece of furniture to not fall down due to the terrible impression.

_There was a deep cut on his right cheek…_

Had it…? Had it been real… or while he was asleep, had he unconsciously cut himself with an object?

* * *

_London, August 9th, 1997_

"Hey, Ron, how did you cut yourself? It looks pretty bad… Ron, are you listening to me…?"

He was having breakfast with some members of the Order. Hermione was watching him with slight worry, but he was not taking his eyes from his plate, lost in his thoughts. He was more pale than usual and he seemed depressed while he played with his breakfast, not taking a bite. The cut on his cheek was healing quickly, although it was still very noticeable.

He could not take his mind out of that damn dream. The last words he had been told resounded inside his head, over and over… As if demanding him to decide and do what he had not been asked yet. He could feel in his stomach the weight of his fear and guilt. He did not understand where that last one was coming from, but…

"Good morning."

Harry entered the kitchen at that moment. Everyone present smiled at him and answered his greeting, at the same time as Mrs. Weasley gave him his breakfast, which Harry thanked her for with a nod. He sat down in front of Ron, who noticed he looked better than in previous days. He seemed happier… Or pleased, perhaps…

It irritated him how everyone seemed to respect Harry and how the world stopped when he walked in. If Hermione had been worried about him before, it was certainly not happening anymore. Everyone was constantly congratulating Harry for being chosen as Head Boy, especially Remus. It amazed them how the boy had managed to overcome his godfather's death and improve his abilities every day. It all made Ron feel very suspicious, and he tried to keep himself as distant as possible.

Next to him, Remus and Tonks discussed the ministry, while on the other side of the table, Mundungus exchanged opinions with Arthur about cauldron manufacturing. Hermione listened with attention the explanation Harry was giving her about one of the topics of their History of Magic homework. Ron was shocked by how Hermione had suddenly forgotten her curiosity with respect to the wound on his cheek. He almost felt as if he was reliving his dream when he saw neither Harry nor Hermione paying attention to him.

At that moment Potter's emerald eyes turned to his direction and watched him for an instant, inspiring certain arrogance. Ron frowned. He was under the impression that such look from Harry meant he knew something he did not. Slight suspicion appeared in his head. Could it be related to the dream…? Why was Potter so pleased that morning?

He wished everything was like before… For Harry to be his best friend, the one with whom he could spend nice and fun moments, with whom he could count on every time there was a problem and somehow… everything would be bright again. But those times were part of a past stuck in time. He could not trust Harry anymore, because he was not the same as before. He now seemed like a masculine version of Hermione, reading all the time and speaking politically. And worse. Cold and reserved. Perhaps even, when he was in a bad mood, ironic. And that Harry was no longer compatible with Ron.

Damn. He could not write to Neville either… The Order rarely let him communicate with him because of the possibility that mail could be intercepted. He sighed. He also did not want to talk about his dream with Hermione, but he needed someone… Someone with whom he could share his suspicions. He watched the faces of the members of the Order. No. They were not what he needed.

"Are you done with your breakfast, Ron?"

"Huh?" He came back from his reverie. Hermione was talking to him from the door. Next to her was Harry.

"With Harry, we're going to the library. See you there?"

Without giving him time to respond, the duo left the room, not interested on what he had to say to them.

* * *

He cursed at Snape for the tenth time in three minutes. He could not focus and the damn potions professor had given them a ton of homework, which had complex exercises that in his moment of confusion made it impossible for him to solve. He needed to finish soon with that part of his homework; otherwise he would spend his entire summer on it.

Hermione seemed occupied with her own problems in her Herbology homework, and Harry was just a few feet from him, reading with calm a book on advanced Transfiguration. He could have gone to him, ask him about the problems he was having trouble with and everything would be solved. But his pride was stronger and he did not want everyone else saying that Potter knew more and could do better than him. That was not true!

He hit the potions book hard with his left fist. His frustration was immense and he hated feeling ignorant and useless. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself… Without being able to once more. It did not matter how often people warned him, his inclination to think before acting was still untamable and there was nothing he could do.

He closed his eyes and in a few seconds, without intending to, he entered a dream state. Among the mess of ideas and thoughts, only one phrase stood out: Nothing. Mattered. Anymore. All emotion was scattered from his soul when reality lost sense and he stop feeling his body for some reason. He was rid of all tension and moodiness. He just simply let himself go and be dominated by that bewildering peace.

His breathing was harmonized by the conflicting smells in the environment. Incredible sounds buzzed in his ears while a fresh breeze seemed to sigh on his face.

"_You have ten hours to decide, Weasley."_

As he was out of his reality, it was hard for Ron to understand what the unknown voice meant. But soon he figured it out. However, he did not know from where those words were coming. Were they stuck inside his mind or someone, close to him, was articulating them? He did not know, could not understand the order of the circumstances.

"_If you accept, go tonight at midnight to Regent's Park, with your wand and, obviously, without letting anyone know. If you do not accept, simply prepare yourself, because your days are counted."_

The feeling of dreaming disappeared at that moment. He blinked several times, until he recognized the library in headquarters. The potions book was open in front of him, but he ignored it completely. Panic invaded him and he could hear his own heavy breathing. He stood up and watched his hands, which were slightly shaking. The horrible words whistled in his mind like a sentence.

He had to choose. White or black. There was no kind of grey in those options. Finally, after all that time… he had power over his own destiny. He did not know if that made him happy now. Maybe he should inform the Order of what was happening? Would they believe him? What would happen? Who was the one intimidating him?

If the Order had believed so many times on Harry's dreams, why not in him? Nevertheless… He rethought the idea. He was not the Boy-Who-Lived. He did not have any kind of connection with Voldemort. He was not an important factor in the Magical War. Why would someone threaten him? How much could his life be worth to the Order? Perhaps the dream had been an illusion and that voice a sequel of his obsession…

If he could not believe himself, how could he show up in front of the Order? If everything turned out to be a lie, he would end up like a fool in front of everyone. A teenager who wanted attention and that, above all, was putting at risk the lives of so many with his fantasies…

It was a fact. He had to go to Regent's Park and check what the truth was. And depending on that, who was after his life and why.

"Ron, are you okay?" Asked Hermione. He looked around to find Hermione frowning and Harry smiling arrogantly.

"Yes, I don't know why you ask." He lied shamelessly while he closed the potions book and put away his parchment. "Everything is perfect."

Hermione wanted to answer back but Ron did not give her time and left the library, not interested in what she had to say. Exactly the same way Granger and Potter had in the morning.

* * *

He made sure his wand was perfectly placed on his belt. He looked at himself in the mirror again, to make sure everything was in place. He was wearing muggle clothes to not call attention, despite the fact that he was convinced that at midnight nobody would see him in that part,where he had only been to once. He did not remember it well since that visit had occurred when he was a child and… there had been nothing interesting to remember.

He had never been there again and it was also not the best thing during war time. If he thought about it more carefully, he should not attend the appointment. It was too risky. However, it was his chance. He had used the hours between making up his mind and midnight to find out where the park was, how he could get there easily, and what he would do to insure nobody noticed his absence. Above them all Harry, since he was the only one that could wonder where he was at that time after seeing an unoccupied bed.

How unlucky could he be? Potter would not worry about him, and if he did, he would only mess it all up. As a preventive measure, he managed a couple of spells to pretend he was sleeping, when in truth, he was only leaving a replica of himself in Grimmauld Place. He had turned seventeen; he could do whatever he wanted without having the Ministry on his back.

He left the room quietly. He walked down the stairs which, in his opinion, creaked more than any other he had ever stepped on. He had to learn where exactly to step on so as to produce the least amount of noise, and that was an impossible mission. Nevertheless, when he finally reached the hall, he had to correct himself. It was more impossible for nobody to see him, especially when members of the Order of the Phoenix were in the kitchen, in a secret meeting dedicated to things that they, as young people, were not to be directly concerned about. He heard the different voices arguing and shivered.

If everything worked out, he would be back before any of them noticed his escape. But, what if he did not come back on time? What would happen then?

He did not want to think on the consequences of his actions and pulled out from his pocket the small bag that had the floo powder. He walked toward the chimney and threw some to the fire. He breathed slowly, trying to focus on what he was about to do. He was about to abandon the safety of the Order… Only to find out who was threatening him and why they were doing so. How could he be so sure that it was worthy to risk himself in such a way?

There was only one way to find out and it was to go, without fear, to the meeting. Ron muttered his destination and instantly he disappeared from the headquarters of the Order, without noticing the green eyes that had been watching each one of his movements from a corner of the room.

Regent's Park, located north of West End, included a classic urban grid and large residential terraces. He was surrounded by elegant buildings close to the London Zoo, which amazed Ron by its magnitude. He was not expecting to find himself in such a big and peculiar place, which was nothing at all like what he had imagined.

To arrive to the place he had to stop by the Leaky Cauldron, where he had needed to move with caution as it was not the best place to be at night. However, he could not avoid it. It was the only place he knew that was connected to the Floo Network. From there he took the Knight Bus, which took him there directly.

He began thinking how he was going to find his stalker in such place, especially considering he had no clue of his physical appearance. He looked at his wrist watch and realized he had arrived minutes before the agreed time. He did not know if that gave him an advantage.

He walked to go into the park. He stopped in front of a tall lamp-post that lighted up the area. Big trees surrounded him from everywhere. If it had been day time, he would have been thankful for the nice shade they could have provided; however, they only made him feel afraid. It was like being surrounded and shrouded in darkness.

Going back to the topic... How would he find his stalker?

"It is not your mission to find me, it is mine." A male voice answered behind him.

Ron turned to look behind him and found a hooded individual. His face was not in his field of vision. But analyzing his body language, Ron could tell the arrogance and confidence he showed. He could have made fun of him but, being at a disadvantage, he hesitated. Not knowing to what, he felt afraid and weak.

"Weak people like you make me sick, because they are extremely useless in this kind of situation."

The red-hair had no time to get mad to such underestimation. The man walked the steps that separated him from Ron, who was finally able to see his features, only to be horrified by what he saw: a pale face, covered in coldness, with powerful scarlet eyes. The eyes he had never seen, but he had heard of before. And nothing he had heard of before had been a lie.

They were eyes that consumed all the courage and rebellion someone might have had. Eyes that reflected greed, an endless desire for revenge, and corruption. They glowed with power, authentic power he had never seen on anyone before. Not even Dumbledore's pleasant blue eyes could have inspired so much in that small instant…

He felt panic. Pure panic. He fell back a couple of steps, not giving credit to what his eyes were seeing. Not wanting to think he had committed the craziest thing by going straight to the Dark Lord, thinking he could face him on his own. A mocking smile appeared on Voldemort's face noticing the vulnerability of his victim.

"What is your choice, Weasley?"

Why him? Why was the Dark Lord after him? He had done nothing that could have affected his plans directly! At least, not more than what Potter had done, or a ministry auror… Why him?

"I do not believe you are on the best position to ask, are you, Weasley?"

He could not believe his ears either. He was an idiot. He had been a complete idiot. He was going to die and there was no turning back. He. Was. Going. To. Die.

"You do not necessarily have to die."

His blue eyes widened in amazement. Was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…? Was he reading his mind, without any visual contact…?

"You should not be so shocked, having such a weak mind. Now, answer." His scarlet eyes glowed with malice. Ron closed his eyes tightly, to get back the energy he needed to say what he was going to say.

"What do I have to do if I want to live?"

"You will only know that if that is what you choose." He was not surprised by the answer. What else could he expect from the most powerful dark wizard in history?

Was it worth it to die in that place? Was it worth it to have wasted seventeen years in a cause he would never achieve? Was it worth it to die, when he was given another opportunity? Another opportunity that would cost a lot, but… Not more than his existence, right?

"To live."

In that moment, he did not know what such insignificant words truly meant. He did not know how much he would pay for his life, nor the guilt he would carry from that day on. Nevertheless, he would never know that his actions would be the main cause for one of the most revolutionary tragedies in the Magical Community. He never believed himself guilty of that crime. Nobody was believed guilty of that crime. But there had been one behind the Decision.

* * *

_He entered the house mentioned on the map using a charm on the main door's lock. His mission was simple: to eliminate the two inhabitants. He could even let them live, but making sure that they would never see the light of the sun again with their coherent minds. He could not help feeling dirty to follow such order. For that hour, he felt like a death eater. Without the possibility of choosing what to do or how to react. He could not contradict the Dark Lord. It was not in his power. At least he had not had to kiss the robes of such deranged being… He just had to obey that order and he would be free._

_He walked in total silence toward the living room. All the lights were off and it appeared that the muggles were sleeping. He could not help but feel nervous. He was about to kill two defenseless muggles. Two people who had no way to defend themselves from him. He observed the bottle the Dark Lord had given him. It contained mortal venom. It was instantaneous. If he managed to go unnoticed, they would die without knowing… Eternal Sleep._

_He casted a lumos spell and began walking the steps that would take him to the second floor where the bedrooms were most likely located. His steps were imprecise as his entire body was shaking. He bit his lower lip to try to focus on holding his wand firmly._

"_Hermione? Is that you?"_

_The voice of a woman. However, that was not what shocked Ron. No… had the woman called him Hermione? How many Hermione could there be in London?_

_He turned to see the woman at that moment, who was exiting her room on her sleeping outfit, thinking that it was her daughter who was walking on the hallway. Her expectant face suddenly clouded with confusion and fear when noticing instead an unknown young man, pointing at her with a wand. The woman stared at him. She knew she had seen him before, but did not know where…_

_And Ron knew he had also seen her before. She was Hermione's mother! She had the same hair as her friend: bushy and brown. Although her eyes were black instead of almond._

_He felt the panic return from deep inside of him. He had to kill Hermione's parents. His best friend. Only because he wanted to live. Why? That was unfair! It was… cruel… Tears came out of his eyes. Tears that went down his face softly._

"_Mrs. Granger…"_

"_Who are you?"_

_He got his courage together and casted a Stupefy. They woman fell to the ground unconscious._

_He opened the door through which Mrs. Granger had come out and entered the room. He found a shocking environment, an environment that had a familiar smell, one that he was often around. He guessed the room belonged to a young girl because of the bright colors that decorated it, and the style of the furniture. Besides, there was a small library on the corner, where he found a great amount of both muggle and magical books. It was definitely Hermione's bedroom._

_He walked toward the bed with effort and caressed the bed with sadness and longing. Hermione would hate him, she would despise him with all her might… Each part of his body was crushed by guilt because of what he was going to do, but it did not matter anymore. He had to execute his mission or nothing more would be worth it. It would all end. He knew he was being selfish, but…_

_He quickly left that place and entered the next room, ignoring the body that slept on the hallway. He was determined and prepared. What would happen he would carry over his shoulders for the rest of his life, he knew it._

_There was Hermione's father, resting peacefully on the bed, not knowing that his killer was walking toward him and examining his condition. Ron stood next to him, opened his mouth carefully, leaned him forward and placed the bottle with poison on his lips. He took a deep breath before pulling the bottle and holding his nose to force him to drink all the liquid, without wasting a single drop._

_The man coughed heavily once the toxic entered his system and Ron laid him softly on the bed. He watched the symptoms of the poison, trying not to look at him directly. His world blurred. He was not thinking coherently. He did not want to think of what he had done. Mr. Granger began shaking vigorously due to the sudden high fever. He moaned in his unpleasant sleep and Ron could see the pain on his features. Not being able to take the cruel reality in front of him, he left the bedroom not looking back._

_Now, he just needed to deal with Mrs. Granger. He watched her body, lying on the floor. However, he could not do it anymore. He did not want the pain inside of him to double. No… He had no more strength. The woman in front of him did not deserve to die. She did not deserve the fate they wanted to impose on her. He fell to his knees while tears bathed his face._

"_You are weak." Someone said behind him. Why was he always caught by surprised? "Don't you feel strong enough to cast a simple Cruciatus? Aww…"_

_Ron turned back to see. Who else could be heartless enough to say such words? Bellatrix Lestrange smiled cynically and with unbalanced insanity. That was it. There was nothing else he could do… The main role had been given to her._

"_Alright, I will show you. Maybe then you will learn what it is to serve the Dark Lord. Crucio!"_

_Mrs. Granger screamed and screamed in pain. She cried frantically, begged… Every part of her soul was left scattered over the wooden floor, just like her blood and her merciful tears. She felt it once, twice… perhaps even three times. Ron was not aware of what was happening anymore…_

_That was the cost of his life._

* * *

He burst into his bedroom at the headquarters of the Order half an hour after the massacre. His eyes were swollen because of crying. and his body could not stop shaking. Nobody had noticed his absence, or that is what it seemed as nobody was waiting for him at the entrance. However, he could be wrong. There was one person who could have noticed his escape and it was the one person he did not want finding out about the event.

When he entered the room he was startled when he saw Harry lying on his bed, with his summer nightclothes, reading the same defense book from the day before. He seemed focused on his reading; however, he raised his sight from the book when he heard the door creak. He looked at him solemnly, making Ron think that he knew more than he thought.

"What are you doing up?" Harry raised an eyebrow to Ron's abrupt question.

"Can't I?" He replied. "After all, it is my house, isn't it?" Ron looked at him frowning.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I can't. Besides, I'm anxious to finish this book. It's really good, you should read it…" Ron gave him an eloquent look.

"You act like Hermione."

Hearing the name of his friend from his own lips caused him pain. Guilt was eating him… Harry seemed to notice his expression of pain and the changes on the face of the red-hair. He watched him closely and raised another eyebrow.

"Is there anything going on?" He asked intrigued.

"No, should there be?" Ron avoided the question. Although, if he had not tried so hard not to, Harry would have smiled at him mischievously.

"Maybe, the fact that you weren't in the room for over an hour is alarming, right?"

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but could not answer coherently. He pursed his lips and waited for Harry to finish his accusation. To this, Dumbledore's golden boy looked to the window and remained in silence for several minutes, which irritated and exasperated Ron to no end. Did Potter really know what had happened or was he just faking it?

"Where have you been?" Asked Harry directly, leaving his book to focus his full attention on the conversation. Ron wished he would have kept reading and ignoring him as usual.

"Wandering around the house. You do it, don't you?" Harry's eyes narrowed to his vague response.

"If you had been wandering around the house, _someone_ would have seen you." He accused him.

His words hit Ron. That meant that Harry had asked the different members of the Order if they knew where he was… What protection did he have against that? Who could lie for him, to give evidence he had been at Grimmauld Place?

"No, I was just in one of the rooms in the attic. Those that nobody really goes to, you know…" Harry looked at him suspiciously. Nevertheless, Ron tried to feign as much confidence as he could and he added, "Anyway, why are you so worried about where I've been?" Harry's green eyes darkened before his question and he sighed.

"You are right. I should not think that everyone would want to be heroes in this war like I am, right?" With another sigh, Harry looked down to his blankets. "Goodnight."

However, the feeling Ron had that Harry knew more than he was saying only grew stronger with his words. But… how could Potter know what he had done that night?

* * *

_London, August 10th, 1997._

"There was a death eater attack in the proximity of Regent's Park." Dumbledore informed them, looking alternatively from Harry, to Hermione, to Ron, who did not know why such news concerned them enough to be part of a private meeting inside the library of Grimmauld Place. However, Hermione tilted when hearing his words.

"Only one house was attacked." The Hogwarts headmaster sighed with nostalgia. "Your father is death, Hermione, and your mother is in critical condition. She is currently in Saint Mungo's…"

Hermione turned deathly pale when the devastating news came out of the lips of professor Dumbledore, who was sitting in front of her. She felt her insides tearing painfully and a void filled the bitterness in her heart. Silent tears came out of her almond eyes, which had just lost all glow of happiness and hope. She could not believe it. She did not want to believe it.

She lost her balance and it did not take long for her to feel cold hands holding her so she would not hit the floor. No, she did not actually feel them. Her mind was in another world, too far to notice what she was going through.

"It can't be…" She moaned.

The pain was worse than she could take. It was worse than any Cruciatus could cause, it went beyond any physical wound. It marked her heart. Her past, present, and future.

"Herm… Herm…"

She heard from a distance a hypnotizing voice calling her. When she opened her eyes again, she saw bright green eyes looking at her. He took her chin and lifted her head imperiously. Hermione could not cry, not in front of them. She had to be strong… had to drown such… such sorrow for just a moment. She would cry on her own, she would vent to herself. She could not fail them. Harry, Ron, the Order… She had to be strong…

"Don't feel ashamed of your suffering." Harry muttered while he touched his cheek gently and cleared her tears. "Cry."

As if those words were the key to her soul, her sobs increased and she held onto Harry in a sudden need of comfort. She hugged him with desperation, as if fearing he would also disappear, and she took refuge on his chest, to escape reality. She felt vulnerable… However, in Harry's arms, she was protected. She was reflected in his eyes, in his invisible darkness… He understood her like no one else. He knew how to comfort her. He… He was her world, the only think she had left.

Harry felt a lump in his throat because of the sorrow he felt to see her cry. He could tolerate crying from anyone but Hermione. She was the only one who had ever looked deep inside of him to fully know him; she was the only one who had always been by his side, working for his well-being. She did not deserve something like that. She was the most innocent among innocents. She should not have been in that war, where betrayals and lies were frequent, where hatred and anger were plentiful… She was too pure for that.

Harry knew how it hurt to lose a parent… He had lived it with the death of Sirius. With him, his world had been lost and distorted. With his death, everything stopped making sense. Nothing else mattered. He forgot his principles and loyalties. He forgot his past… All for a desire for a present more beneficial for himself. Where he could make his own decisions, right or wrong. He was not afraid of death. He had nothing to lose.

Nothing, except Hermione. He hugged her more tightly against him and ran his hand through her hair. From above her shoulder, he saw Dumbledore observing the scene calmly, unwrapping a lemon drop. He felt his deep hatred toward the headmaster reborn from deep inside of him. Only Dumbledore could be so calm in a situation like that… No, _calm_ was not the right word to describe it, but _indifferent_… As if he was not interested on the death of Hermione's father, or how destroyed the girl was. Oh, right… She was _not_ a fundamental character in the War, why get worked up by it?

What the old geezer did not know was the she _was_ a fundamental character in the War. But it would take him years to realize it, if his blindness did not lead him to his death first. He would regret everything he was doing to Herm and him… He would regret not understanding the magical potential Granger had, and not having considered his attitude better. He swore it by his blood.

He turned his sight toward Ron, who remained frozen on the other side of the table. Not knowing what to do. Where to look. What to say. And Harry guessed that it was not because of the distressing situation, but because of a deeper and strident feeling. Guilt.

The pieces of the puzzle finally came together inside Harry's mind. Now he could see a clearer image. The murderer of Hermione's father was only a few feet away from him. He knew it. He might not have real evidence, but his intuition was telling him so. The loose ends from those days had finally found their place.

He looked at the weak shape between his arms and he felt sick to his stomach. He could not do that to Hermione. He could not accuse Ron without proof… It was also not the time. He would talk with him… And from there he would see what he would do. He was divided between his loyalty to Hermione and the old one he once had for Ron. Perhaps it would not be best for the girl to know who her father's murderer was… The reality would be too harsh for her.

Time would tell.

* * *

"Did you want to talk with me?" Asked Ron, walking again into the room that he shared with Harry hours after the talk they had with Dumbledore.

There was his roommate, anxiously waiting his arrival. Or as anxious as someone could imagine a calculating, calm, and intelligent Harry Potter.

"I did." Harry answered, raising his eyes to have them on the same level as Ron, giving him a glacial look.

Ron felt very uncomfortable and avoided Harry's eyes for several minutes, pretending he was looking at the dull view outside their window. He was actually trying to prepare himself for the long conversation he knew he was going to have with his previous best friend. Preparing excuses and lies, believable alibis… Because he suspected that Potter had worked out who was the real culprit of the death of Hermione's father and the severe condition of her mother.

Harry stood up and walked slowly toward him, watching him scrupulously on the way. It was as if he was expecting Ron to suddenly cry and tell him the truth, without having to question him or force him. No, that was not what Harry intended. His reasons were bound to something deeper: Legilimency. However, Weasley did not suspect that.

"You know as well as I do that Hermione needs us during this difficult time. It would be good for us to leave our differences behind, at least while we're in Grimmauld Place… Don't you agree?"

Ron stared at him, surprised of what Potter had just said. And that was exactly what the Boy-Who-Lived intended: emotions such as surprise, pain, or anger were the ones that would allow him to enter an individual's mind more easily. They were referred to as weaknesses after all… That was why Harry had worked so much on suppressing them from himself.

Once he was able to enter the surface of the mind of the red-hair (without him noticing, obviously), he began looking into the events of the night before, searching for key concepts. He saw isolated images, with no real meaning, that blocked his understanding of the event. Too many emotions together: pain, regret, shame, wrath… The flow of feelings was such that Harry felt a virulent oppression in his chest and had to leave momentarily his roommate's mind before his own mental barriers dwindled.

Ronald saw Harry suddenly shudder, taking short breaths, focusing his eyes on him and looking at him with… disgust. Although the last thing was something more related to his own imagination: Potter was only trying to erase the memories that pictures he saw brought him back. Despite that, he could not help feeling surprised by the change in the Golden boy's condition. What was happening to him now?

"Had… Had you seen Mr. and Mrs. Granger recently?" Harry asked, with his eyes not looking at anything in particular. Ron frowned to the sudden change of topic.

"Why do you ask?" Ron had no way of knowing that Harry was seeing Hermione's parents through his mind.

"I never talked to them… At least, I never had a real conversation with them. Hermione always insisted that I should, that they were very interested on knowing their daughter's friend… It's a shame I didn't listen to her, don't you think?"

The red-hair felt deep rage being born deep inside of him. If he wanted to use the right term to describe it, it was jealousy. Hermione had _never_ said that to him. Had her parents never wanted to meet with him as well? Why did _everyone_ always give more importance to Harry? _He was also important! He had done things to help Hermione!_

"_Like killing his father?_" A voice inside of him reminded him. He clenched his fists, trying to compose himself. The events of the night before flashing in his mind again… Multiple times, trying to remind him of the sin he had committed… Hammering it to his mind. The guilt he would carry for the rest of his life. His negligence… His weakness.

Suddenly, he felt his thoughts mixing with someone else's. His anger and regret were nothing compared to what the other person was feeling. The magnitude of such emotions stunned him. What he felt was deeper, even if it did not belong to him.

He raised his sight from the floor and he finally realized who was causing everything. Harry Potter. But this time, Ron had to take a couple of steps back, scared by the aspect he was showing. His already cold green eyes were filled with dark feelings: of anger, resentment, and shame. His body was shaking in incomprehensible pain. Among such unleash, an aura of power, which Ron had never noticed on him, wrapped him intensely. But that sort of light that surrounded him was not white or of any light color, as any member of the Magical Community would have expected, but a dark grey, seemingly black. At that moment, Ron did not understand what was happening. However, months later… Everything would make sense.

"Harry? What…?"

"How dared you?!" Yelled Potter. Ron closed his mouth immediately. "How could you do that to Mione?!

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ron yelled in response, making Harry's anger increase.

"And you are so insolent to deny it?! I've seen everything, Weasley! I've seen how you killed him…! How you let her be tortured…!"

"You don't understand!"

"I understand more tan you think! You are a _coward!"_

He saw how Potter took deep breaths to compose himself, but he was too out of control to think of doing so. He knew what he was, how stupid he had been to accept such order, but… He would like to know what the so called Boy-Who-Lived would have done in such situation… There was no point in asking him: he would probably pretend to be a hero as always and would say he would have never taken the deal, that he would have died stupidly and in vain.

"And what if I am?!" Harry could not have expressed more hatred and disgust in his eyes and in his posture to the response of his previous best friend.

"You have betrayed everyone! You have exchanged Hermione for your own life! Are you proud of that?! Are you proud of the pain you've caused?!"

"I am not a death eater, Potter! I will never enjoy pain, Hermione's least of all…"

"Then?!" Ron began to guess there were silencing shields on the room; otherwise, someone would have ran to the room to see what was happening.

"I didn't have a choice! That you can always escape death does not mean that everyone else have that same skill! You have always been Dumbledore's protégé. He has always believed you… What do you think would have happened if _I _had gone to him and had told him what was going on?"

"Hermione's parent would be fine." Harry answered coldly. "Or at least, they would not have been killed by their daughter's _best friend_. Dying is better than living with the price you've paid! Because it's not you who's been affected… But Hermione."

"You don't understand!"

"Go back to the hell you came from." Harry muttered before leaving the room, slamming the door.

Ron sat on his bed after losing all strength on his legs. Harry's words resounded inside his mind like a death sentence. It was horrible seeing how those green eyes, that at one point had shown friendliness toward him, had observed him with unrivalled disdain. It was the feeling of betrayal. Of the pain caused by knowing that trust had been broken. Personally, Ron felt emptiness inside of him with respect to that. He did not want to think about the situation from that point of view. He would rather think of what would happen next.

Potter knew what had happened, what he had done… How long would it take for him to accuse him to Dumbledore? How long it would take for him to become his family's disgrace, a blasphemy…? He had to move fast if he wanted to avoid that future: he had to conceal himself and…

A brilliant idea was born in his mind. Nobody ever saw Potter at night. Nobody knew if he stayed at home or not, everyone just assumed he did because he had nowhere else to go. But if… he took that to his favor? If he blamed Potter? Obviously, Dumbledore would not believe him… Everyone would support Potter. Or maybe they would not? After all, he had been acting weird for the last few months: he spent most of his time among books and wandering on his own.

He needed someone important to support him to force Harry to remain quiet. He stopped his thoughts to the cruel idea that formed inside his head. If Hermione thought Harry to be guilty… that would be enough to make useless the Golden boy's accusation if he were to open his mouth. Besides, it would probably work against him: everyone would think that he was trying to come up with an alibi, just as Ron was doing.

He only had to wait for the right time. It was not convenient to go and lie to Hermione right at that moment, and cause her more pain than she was already feeling. She had been crying for hours alone in her room. She had asked for that.

* * *

"Going over the Granger's case…" Tonks began to say in a serious tone.

Almost all the important members of the Order were present in that meeting, except for Hermione, who had excused herself that night. Harry and Ron had not spoken to each other since the fierce argument they had several hours before.

Ron knew that Harry had not said anything yet. Otherwise, Dumbledore would have talked to him alone; he would have talked to him to then inform the Order of his betrayal. He knew that was how the system worked. Nevertheless, he could not stop feeling nervous when the conversation shifted to the attack on the Grangers.

"We all know that powerful shields where placed on that house." Tonks said, sighing with sorrow before continuing with her speech. "Shields the Order installed and made sure to test for their effectiveness." Some members of the Order nodded. "Only someone who was a member could enter, which leads us to a terrible conclusion…"

"We have a traitor." Moody muttered, observing every member with his magical eye.

The expressions of the members of the Order were very different. Some seemed indifferent to the notion of a traitor while others could not hide their disturbance to the fact and their affliction was evident. A clear example was Remus, whose face was darkened by a veil of memories and misery.

The war was proving to be hell for the last marauder. And not just for him, but also for the rest of the aurors, professors and ministry workers. Everyone wished for everything to be over, to go back to the monotonous happiness in their lives.

"Yes." Kingsley nodded. "Once the member of the Order entered, he allowed access to a couple death eaters and they took care of torturing Mrs. Granger."

"How is she?" Dumbledore asked. Arthur Weasley bit his lower lip.

"It will take a while for her to recover."

"If she ever does…" Harry whispered with a dry voice.

Some people watched him sadly while others avoided the young Gryffindor's intense look. Perhaps some felt guilty of the intangible suffering that his eyes revealed, and many, like Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore, felt helpless. Or at least the last one pretended…

"At the time of the attack, there was a small meeting here." Kingsley said. "Thus, those who were in this kitchen are excluded from suspicion… However, we have many members left and any of them could be the traitor."

But they would never know who the real traitor was because they would never suspect the youngest Weasley boy (who could have guessed?) and besides, they stopped looking the day of the Hogwarts attack at the end of Harry, Hermione, and Ron's seventh year, assuming who it had been.

* * *

"_Hermione, Hermione… Come on, Mione, stop crying." The girl did not listen to him. "You have to live, Mione. You have to keep going."_

"_I can't. I won't be able to, Ron."_

"_Of course you can. You have always been able to do anything, why would this time be any different?"_

"_You don't get it… You don't understand what I'm going through. You don't know what it's like to feel alone, completely alone in this sadistic world, where nothing matters… And it's good that you don't know; nobody should."_

"_Hermione…"_

"_I just wish that I could talk to my father one more time, to tell him how much I love him, how much I need him… how much I will miss him. It's incredible how you don't appreciate what you have until you lose it for good. Do you know, Ron? You are so lucky to have such a warm and big family… There will always be someone by your side. I, however, don't have any brothers and look… my mother is fighting to survive insanity. What do I have left?"_

"_Please, Hermione, don't say that. I am here for you."_

"_It's not the same. It will never be the same…"_

"_You have to move on, Mione. You can't really want to spend the rest of your life locked in here, can you?"_

"_No, of course not. I am just afraid to go out and face reality. To walk on the street and ran into my father's killer… I just couldn't take it."_

"_Do you want revenge?"_

"_No."_

"_No?"_

"_I want peace."_

"_Hermione… what would you say if I told you who the traitor is?"_

"_What?"_

"_You know there is a traitor inside the Order, otherwise they would never have been able to enter your house."_

"_But… but… you know who it is? How?"_

"_He told me himself. It's so horrible to see what he has become…"_

"_What are you talking about?"_

"_I couldn't believe it in the beginning…"_

"_Ron?"_

"_He follows He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named with true devotion. And to think we thought him our hero."_

"_Ron, are you saying…?"_

"_He is the one responsible, Hermione. _He_ is."_

Harry preferred not to continue listening after that. He could not believe what Ron had done. He could not believe his need to sacrifice everyone else for his own sake. He had always thought him so loyal… Despite the jealousy, he had been a great friend. But it was extraordinary how things changed. How a world could change its shape and have its condition worsened.

Throughout his entire sixth year he had fought against the feeling of considering joining the Dark side, to continue with his friends, those whom he had thought truly cared for him. For Him and not for the Boy-Who-Lived. At that moment, he realized how foolish he had been. There were no friends to whom he should be loyal. There was nothing to keep him on Dumbledore's side. All the ideals that he had once had and followed, his enthusiasm and fervor fell apart before him. It was only a matter of time until Hermione stopped talking to him, believing him guilty of a crime that he had in no way committed. There was no point in continuing fighting for a lost Cause. A cause that would only lead to tragedy and loss. A cause in which nobody would walk by his side and that he knew was a rough path…

It was that night when he went to sleep early for the first time in a long time and, when meeting Voldemort through his dreams, accepted becoming his equal and right hand, as he had offered previously. It was that night that the fates of the muggle and magical worlds were fully sealed. Not before, not later… That night the Darkness captured Harry Potter's will forever. It was the borderline situation that sealed an era and shaped directions.

_Cry…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **This story does not belong to me. The characters belong to the amazing J. K. Rowling, and the story originally belongs to Parvati-Blossom, who has wonderfully agreed to let me translate it. If able, you should really consider reading the original version in Spanish.

**Warning: **Some chapters may contain strong language and images. Torture is a common occurrence in the dark side, please keep that in mind.

Has anyone else noticed that you can't copy any text from the website anymore? It is kind of frustrating... Anyway...

Thank you for reading! And thank you to everyone who left reviews!

* * *

_I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar._

_I am the son and heir of nothing in particular._

* * *

**Chapter 5**

_August 8th, 2004_

His steps were stealthy and he walked with authentic elegance, worthy of a Malfoy. His robes dangled behind him, giving the situation a special touch. His face showed the humiliation he felt that day, and many death eaters were avoiding his path before the dangerous look he gave anyone who dared mock him. Nevertheless, he had to calm down his feelings of disgrace and anger when entering the meeting room reserved for the death eater elite, where he would certainly have to face his Lord and Filldeserp, whom he had no desire of seeing.

Said and done. There were the two powerful figures, with those frivolous eyes that never revealed a thing. Without weaknesses, only resistances and advantages. With an air of cunning and knowledge. Bellatrix Lestrange, Anthony Goldstein, and Megan Jones were already there, next to a few other known names, but not helpful enough to the Dark Lord to have any contact with them, to his taste.

He sat on his privileged place at the table, waiting for his Lord to beginning that night's meeting. It had been days since they had last gathered at the Fortress. They assumed that the Dark Lord had been occupied with other matters. He turned to focus on Potter. If anyone were to ask him, Potter received more respect than he deserved. There he was, with his eyes fixed on nothing in particular… Lost in his thoughts. His usual paleness, his neutral and calm features. With an air of contemplation that he did not often see in him. Always so composed… why had that changed?

The green eyes awoke suddenly and exchanged a look with Draco. Those eyes shamelessly mocked him, as if knowing beforehand what had happened at the Ministry, the chaos that Cornfoot's murder had caused and that _stupid bloody _Granger'saccusation. A smirk appeared on Potter's face.

"How have you been, Draco?" Potter asked with fake courtesy. The Dark Lord smiled as he had been aware of their glances.

"Alright, unless you consider the fact that the entire ministry is in chaos because of Cornfoot's death right under their noses…"

"It seems you have done your job well, Filldeserp." Voldemort smiled. His heir shared the smile and nodded.

Draco did not have time to be surprised. He felt stupid not guessing he had been the true murderer of the traitor. It was _obvious_. Only someone so corrupted by evil could carry out such cruelty. Only someone who was so eager of proving their power, kept hidden through many years of secret training. Only someone for whom failing was not a possibility and revenge was the only path to triumph.

And that unfortunately meant Harry Potter.

"Then…? It was you who mirrored my physical aspect to infíltrate the Ministry?" Malfoy muttered, working it out quickly. Potter nodded, giving him a smirk.

"I hope I did not cause much trouble for you." His phrase was full of sarcasm.

"You…!" Voldemort and Filldesepr raised their eyebrows to Malfoy's outburst, who quickly tried to compose his image. "You don't know what you have done."

"Huh, I do not?"

"No. Granger saw you and recognized something weird in you, did you know?"

He was not surprised to find a boring look coming from him. He had probably run into Hermione Granger on purpose, only to cause him problems and ruin his positive image in the ministry. Besides, how could he be sure that Granger and Potter were not allies, and that neither him or the Dark Lord knew? He had to admit it: that was the most likely theory, however… Why did it have to be Granger?!

And the Dark Lord was asking himself the same thing. Harry found himself the focus of two questioning looks, anxious for answers.

"Granger? The auror?" Voldemort asked, knowing beforehand it was her. _Her_.

"Yes." Filldeserp answered, as if it was the most basic thing in the world. "I crossed paths with her while I was about to leave the ministry and make my way to Diagon Alley… But do tell us, Draco, what happened?"

Had it been his imagination or did Potter's eyes glow with satisfaction?

"She accused me to the Wizengamot. I was administered Veritaserum." To this, both dark wizards leaned forward to listen to his story.

"You were able to block its effects, right, Malfoy?"

"Partially. Yes, in the end… Yes, but that does not cut the fact that my _perfect_ record has been stained by suspicion of a crime I did not commit. I call for revenge." He stared at Potter, who returned the look with defiance.

"That mudblood has come between too many of our plans. She has stopped even some vital missions." The Dark Lord muttered, analyzing the situation and interrupting the fight of wills the two young men were having.

He glanced at his heir who kept himself unaffected to his Lord's description of his previous best friend, without any of his memories surfacing on his mind. He smiled internally. The punishment had fit perfectly and that was the perfect mission to prove it.

"I want you both, Filldeserp and Malfoy, to go and kill Granger. Make her suffer."

"At your command, my Lord."

His words did not tremble. His eyes did not glow. His hands did not squeeze. There was no reaction to the order. Voldemort could not have been more pleased. It would be an entertaining week…

* * *

_August 9th, 2004_

Hermione leaned her head on her right hand sighing softly while looking through the parchments Neville had given her on some of the investigations they had been working on. She did not feel like doing it. Not that day, a day in which the void inside of her felt significantly deeper. Such emptiness, such feeling of unease… of Loneliness. It was a day of distant expressions.

She had wished to escape every ninth of August since 1997. Neville treated her with caution those days and Ron barely looked her in the eyes, something she could not quite understand. If she was in a bad mood, their attitude sickened her and hurt her intensely: it was as if they pitied her…

It was a day of memories, of eternal sorrow and regret. If she had been with them… Perhaps her father would still be alive, her mother might not be in a severe condition, and she would have Harry by her side… Because she could have prevented his fall. Even with the passing of years, and the insistent arguments of the Order of Phoenix, she refused to believe that Harry had been the real traitor that time. It was easy for them to blame him for his treachery, when they had not seen or felt the real pain in his heart. She had been comforted by his arms; she had been able to understand his Darkness… She had lived it.

What she would give for a different past, one which would allow them to be together again… How they had been on their first years at Hogwarts, with their innocence, joy, and adventures. How she needed to feel loved again. She _knew_ Ron and Neville loved her, but they had never made her feel it in a sincere way as the young Potter had once done.

Hermione bit her lower lip, pushing away those thoughts. The person who used to be her best friend was now the equal and heir to the most powerful and catastrophic Dark Lord in the history of the magical world. There was nothing left of who he had been. He was not Him.

"Hermione, are you planning on going out today?" Neville asked, sitting on the other side of the table. The auror noticed the worry in her friend's voice.

"Yes." She answered dryly, staring once more at the documents in front of her.

"Where will you go?"

"To visit my father." She said with a neutral voice, although Neville knew her well enough to guess that there was hidden hesitation behind her indifference.

"Can I go with you?"

She looked up with surprise. Never, never once in all those years, had any of her friends intruded on her day of grief. They respected her and understood her enervation. She did not know how to react to Neville's request… She did not know the reason behind the sudden impulse, but she knew there _was_ one.

"Why?" Asked Herm.

"I want to be with you today. But if you don't want to, it doesn't matter. I respect your privacy, especially on this day…"

Neville's words were filled with sincerity, though she could notice he was hiding something from her. She sighed internally. Company would do her well, she would not deny it. It was not easy to return to the venue of her memories, of reliving the past and trying to move on at the same time.

"Alright. You can come." Neville smiled at her.

"When will we go?"

"At night." Hermione answered, not giving it real significance, though her friend could not help but frown.

"That's dangerous, Mione…"

"He died at night… I've always visited him at night. Nothing will happen."

She did not know how wrong she was.

* * *

The immortal beauty of the full moon shined over everything, with a chilling but soft light. It was striking and attractive, always so imposing and powerful, full of its own and characteristic energy. Its white light irradiated peace over the terrible shadows of the night, with greater intensity on the current one. Little stars accompanied it, although there were a great amount of clouds hiding them.

Neville wished he was anywhere else on that particular night, not on a cemetery. He was not afraid, but the environment made him feel chills. He was walking among the tombstones, with the sound of the wind buzzing in his ears while his majestic robes swayed, and with the explicit image of a sweet, but melancholic angel above his head. His stomach gave a twist after paying closer attention to it.

It looked like an innocent girl, with long and wavy hair, her eyes closed in a gesture of pain and abandonment. The small wings that came out of her back surrounded her in protection. It looked so vulnerable… and bluntly represented the time of war they were living under, because not far away was the statue of a wizard, who showed courage and determination, with his wand pointing to the front… to the emptiness of death.

That cemetery was dedicated especially to the victims of the new Dark Era, from the return of Lord Voldemort until present time. It was hard walking through it because many known names had been lost along the way. Perhaps family members of old friends rested there, waiting for their souls to rest in peace. Waiting for the moment in which the Cause for which they had died would finish.

_The wait was getting too long.._

Neville stopped in front of his grandmother's grave. He watched it with longing, remembering the moments of happiness he shared with her. That gave him strength and he smiled with pride. He was sure that wherever she was, with his parents who had died a few years before, she would be proud of him. Proud of the Man he had become. He would fight for them and for his own life. He would live what they could not, and for what they died fighting, suffering until the last second of torture.

There was no time for regret or memories. Just in that mere instant, people like them could be dying and he could not allow sadness to blind him. He had to overcome it and move on. Because if that war did not end soon… it would be the end for everyone. No miracles would come the way they were. Voldemort would only get more power every day and with him, his heir. And the years of Darkness would continue infinitely…

He raised his sight and saw Hermione, a few feet from him, leaned over a tombstone crying. He smiled painfully before bending down to place a white flower over his grandmother's remains.

"Don't worry about me." He muttered before standing up and walking toward his friend.

She was destroyed, he knew it. From the episode at Diagon Alley she was more sensitive. Neville knew there were many reasons, but the main one was Filldeserp. The bastard had deeply hurt her. He knew how much Hermione had cared for him during their time at Hogwarts, even more than Ron or himself. Seeing him so vile and merciless, about to kill someone who in the past had been his friend, and with no semblance of regret… It had been too much for her, as strong as she was. She had not imagined that the change had been so extreme.

He was worried about his friend, because even if he knew how painful it was for her… Hermione was not speaking about it and when asked, she changed the subject. She did not let herself loose and kept most of her confused feelings inside. He could see it in her eyes, or in the trembling of her shoulders when she cried with despair.

He put a hand on her shoulder, letting her know he was at her side. However, the gesture did not help Hermione at all. She looked at him pleadingly and Neville understood she needed privacy to deal with her ghosts. He stood up, and right as he was about to say something kind, he heard a scream on the other side of the cemetery. In an act of reflex, he pulled out his wand.

"Stay here, Mione. I'll see what's going on." And not giving her time to respond, he left running on the direction of the screams.

Hermione watched his departure, but did not move. She was on her knees, with her clothes stained by the mud. She did not care. Her face had been marred by her tears that still bathed her features. She closed her eyes and a sigh escaped her lips.

She could not stand the emptiness inside of her. The many conflicts in her mind and heart suffocated her and ate her without mercy. They were depressing thoughts that sunk her in darkness and filled her with uncertainty and unease. She did not want that reality or that world. She did not want to live that way, sighing about the past and questioning the future… Without really knowing what was happening in the present. It was a lost battle against herself, and she could do nothing to change it.

"_Why did you abandon me like that?"_

She did not have the energy to fight. She had no drive or goals to reach. She did not wish for revenge for the lives taken, and she did not have anyone whom to defend that could not do it on their own. She did not have the boldness she had been characterized for months before: all her world had easily fallen apart and to build it again required hope she did not have.

She did not care if she died right then, if it was not because she knew that somehow… she was useful for the Order and the Magical Community in general. But for herself, she did not care. There was no way to get rid of the weight over her shoulders.

She hugged herself, not listening to the desperate screams that surrounded her.

* * *

"Remind me again why we are here, Potter." Malfoy muttered between his teeth while they quietly entered the cemetery. Harry smiled cynically.

"Did the Veritaserum affect your brain or what, Malfoy? Do not tell me you are not capable of mentally preparing yourself for the revenge you desire…"

The blond let out some curses directed at Filldeserp, but he paid no attention and smiled with arrogance while his eyes analyzed the environment. There were only a few people in the area and among them was the person who mattered in their mission, and her companion. He had not expected to cross paths with Longbottom so soon, but he was not going to waste the opportunity.

His eyes set on the angel for a moment. He smiled to the irony that presented itself to him. Malfoy, intrigued, followed the direction of his attention and his lips showed his displeasure.

"They are idiots. The souls that rest here will never be at peace." He mumbled, showing hatred in his voice.

"I do not think the same." Harry said. "Once you die, there is nothing else to worry about, nor pain to suffer. Death is a sweet conciliation that many do not deserve."

"Like you, for example?"

"Mhm."

Malfoy showed his exasperation with his eyes, which caused another smirk from Harry. The death eater fixed his hood as if fearing someone would discover his identity, while Potter walked around the tombstones, reading the names and remembering why and how each of them had died, with his face in the open and his majestic cape theatrically waving behind him. Malfoy thought Filldeserp could be a professional dramaturge.

He was getting annoyed. A cemetery did not represent much fun in a hunt. Only people full of sorrow ever went there… especially at night. It would be easy to find Granger and kill her. Even if the place was large, they knew exactly who she was visiting and where she was.

"Potter, I'm getting bored."

"Awe. Little Draco is bored… what can I do to keep him entertained? Should I bring him a clown? Give him a fake wand for him to practice fake magic? Or perhaps take him to a Quidditch game?"

"Potter. I am warning you. My patience has limits." Potter smiled to his slow threat, dangerously walking closer to him.

"Mine too, Draco. And I assure you that, if we were to duel right now, the winner, with all of its rewards, would be me. Do not forget who you are talking to and who is in charge here. Are you sure you do not need to go to Saint Mungo's?"

"You'll see… You being the Lord's protégé does not mean you are better than me… You'll see."

Malfoy's figure disappeared among the trees that surrounded the area. Harry smiled satisfied. He had managed to get rid of his annoyance. Now the real action would begin. The mission would be very simple.

Besides… he had made Draco walked right to where Neville was walking to. Granger was all his.

* * *

He ran as fast as he could. The screams increased in intensity as he got closer to the center of attention. He first hid behind some bushes, to examine the situation and making his strategy of action.

He was surprised when he saw a death eater (those robes were easily recognizable in the distance) torturing a couple with the _cruciatus_ curse. He felt anger being born inside of him, reliving his parents' torture in his mind. Obviously, the environment in which they were was disturbing and that was why it took him several seconds to decide on what to do.

He was an auror and he would defend the lives of innocents.

Neville stopped hiding and pointed his wand at the death eater, who just then noticed his presence. He was too slow and could not dodge the auror's attack, which threw him a few feet away, against a tree. He saw the woman faint and her boyfriend fall on his knees next to her. He sighed with relief when noticing that neither was seriously injured. Except for the psychological damage they could have…

He turned his attention to the death eater and walked with caution in his direction. Familiar grey eyes returned the look in the dark and mutual hatred was exchanged once they recognized each other.

"How I've wanted to catch you in action, Malfoy. Thank you for delivering yourself on a silver platter."

Malfoy smiled at him with spite and held up his wand again, ready to defend himself. That was how both wizards began a duel of brutal magnitude. Too unbalanced since Longbottom had received training more advanced than the blond.

Ten minutes passed before the death eater fell to the ground, tied magically with merciless ropes, his fate sealed. The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix needed an elite death eater to inform them of Voldemort's future movements, and they finally had a chance…

Neville smiled with triumph and bent down by his side.

"You made a mistake when you underestimated me, Draco. I am not who I used to be."

"It is you who made a mistake, not me." Malfoy replied with arrogance and a tone of victory that confused Neville. He knew that the honor of the death eater's family lay in never showing weakness; nevertheless… what was good about being captured by an auror?

"What are you saying?"

"I've not come alone." Neville frowned, not understanding what he meant.

"Who are you here with?" He asked quickly.

"Filldeserp. And guess what he is doing right now while you are here, bragging to me…" Neville's eyes glowed with understanding.

"Oh, no… Hermione!"

After seeing Malfoy's mocking smile feeling dismay, he ran as if his life depended on it toward the place he had left his friend alone.

_Stupid! It had all been a distraction!_

* * *

Cold arms wrapped around her from behind her. She shivered to the cold contact and was surprised at the same time. Neville had left only a moment before, had he not? Then… who was the one comforting her? Nobody in the Order knew where they had gone, and Ron had not wanted to accompany them… Her mind was telling her.

However, those arms, despite being unknown and perhaps even dangerous, were giving her what she had wanted for a long time: a gesture of affection. A pat on the shoulder did not work, neither did empty words. She needed that: irrevocable and solid hugs that would hold her and never let her fall.

Without thinking, she snuggled against the chest of that person. She noticed his arms were strong and that being held by them did not bother her. To be completely honest with herself, they were filling her with a warmth that time had stolen away from her. Her tears stopped falling and her entire body relaxed after a couple of seconds. Everything was peaceful from her point of view…

"I did not think you would be so pleased with your death." A voice whispered in her ear.

Two things happened in that instant. She recognized the masculine voice immediately and she became full of sorrow. At the same time, she realized the insanity of her actions. She was snuggled in the arms of Filldeserp, the heir of Lord Voldemort! She wanted to get away from him immediately, she kicked and pulled, but those arms turned out to be stronger than her will.

Her tears returned with ease when her brown eyes saw the dark green eyes of who once was her best friend. In them, she saw her own past, her own sadness, and her world lost. She stopped fighting, there was no point… He was more powerful than she was. Besides, Filldeserp had taken advantage of her reverie to secretly remove her wand. She was disarmed and unprotected, added to the emotional weakness she was experiencing.

Filldeserp showed her a smirk.

"That is right, dear. You are unprotected and in the arms of your enemy. There is no point in fighting back."

Hermione could not respond. There was nothing she could do.

"If you let yourself go, Hermione, I promise you there will not be any suffering. Just close your eyes and let death overwhelm you…"

Harry's soft tone of voice was making her fall asleep. His words were tempting and predicted a peaceful future… What could she lose by following his command? It was easy to do what he was asking. To die. To just Die. There and Then. With nothing more than the feeling drowning her heart, and eternal sleep. No physical wounds. Enjoying one more moment, just one more, held by those arms… The only arms that seemed capable of providing her warmth and that now offered her something else…

"Damn you, Malfoy, you are useless. Could you not distract him any longer?" She heard Harry's angry voice from the distance, when she was willing to sleep forever.

That was not what had particularly brought her back from her trance, but being shaken and forced to stand up. She opened her eyes and saw that she was no longer in Filldeserp's arms, although he was still strongly holding her right arm, preventing her from escaping or moving. He was looking with concentration a particular place in the cemetery, on which Hermione could not see anything in particular.

His green eyes turned to see her with urgency and he gave her a mysterious smile.

"I hope you enjoy your future stay inside the Fortress of the Dark Lord, Hermione Granger."

Before she could react, Potter had covered her with his cape and they had disapparated.

* * *

"HE WHAT?!" His scream resounded throughout the house, stunning the hearing of many.

"Ron, calm down." Tried to reason Ginny, but it was impossible.

"How can you ask me to calm down, Ginny?! Hermione is in the hands of those murderers right now! I can't even imagine how she must be suffering…"

"Getting upset won't get us anything, Ron. We need to think calmly."

"But…!" Weasley tried to argue.

"Listen to Ginny, Ron."

They were at headquarters. Malfoy was locked in a room with many charms that would stop him from escaping. And Neville had been the one who had to inform the Order of the Phoenix of the terrible news.

_Hermione had been kidnapped._

He had ran with all his might toward her, but the only thing he was able to see was a blinding red light where the grave of Mr. Granger was located, and next… The cemetery was empty again. Filldeserp had taken his friend and he had been stupid enough to make his job easier, falling in the trap that he and Malfoy had set for him.

He had gone especially to take care of Hermione because his instinct had told him something would happen that night. However, it seemed he had not taken it seriously enough. He should have convinced her not to go to the cemetery at night, of the risk they were taking… Although he did not actually had the right to tell that to his friend.

Besides, he knew that whether it was day or night… Filldeserp would have gotten to her. It might have been more difficult, but in the end… The result would have been the same.

Ron continued with his chain of curses, exaggeratedly and impatiently pacing all over the room. Ginny remained sitting down, apparently calm, although her eyes shined with worry. Neville was leaning against the wall, with his eyes on the floor, feeling guilty about everything and with an uncontainable desire for revenge, full of hatred toward Filldeserp. The rest of the Order respected their pain and kept a disturbing silence.

Dumbledore had a weird expression on his face. A mixture of uncertainty and amazement. His blue eyes seemed darkened and the power that his body usually irradiated seemed to have declined. He knew that nothing good would come out of the situation. They had lost one of their best aurors, and right in the midst of all the chaos inside the Ministry…

At least they had Malfoy. It was time to get some real truth out of a death eater. They needed it.

"We cannot do much." Dumbledore said, breaking the silence. "Just wait…"

"WAIT?!" Ron shouted. Neville sighed with resignation.

"You must understand something, Ron. They currently have a great advantage over us. We don't even know where the famous Fortress of the Dark Lord is located, how are you expecting us to rescue Hermione? I don't think they would be open to that. Besides…" Neville's eyes saddened. "The possibility of her still being alive is really small. You know the system works: Voldemort extracts all the information he possibly can in a long and exhausting torture, and then he murders them… Removing all honor from the person."

Neville was right. There was nothing they could do.

Some felt powerless and angry with such fate, while others remained with their shoulders down, completely disheartened. A minority still kept some hope in their hearts, but…

_Every member of the Order that had been kidnapped by Voldemort and his, had never been seen alive again._

There was no reason for Hermione to be the exception.

* * *

He stopped looking through the maps on his desk when the noise of the door in his study opening interrupted him. He raised his eyes to find the solemn figure of his heir, entering and bowing with respect. He was surprised when he noticed it was only him when Malfoy was supposed to also be there presenting their report on the small attack that had taken less than what they had agreed on… Had it been that easy to execute Granger that it had only taken an hour and a half?

He analyzed the expression on Filldeserp's face. As usual, he was unemotional and was patiently waiting permission to speak. The glow in his eyes was gone and by his look, all action had been rather simple. His robes were barely dirty, which meant there had not been a duel.

Then, where the hell was Malfoy?

"Where is Draco, Harry?" Voldemort asked with patience. Harry was not intimidated, his voice was as indifferent as usual.

"In the hands of the Order of the Phoenix."

"And why is that?"

"Longbottom captured him."

One of the smaller bottles, placed on one of the corners of the room, exploded in a thousand pieces because of the wave of raw power the Dark Lord released. Harry interpreted it as a dangerous situation: his Lord was getting angry at a fast speed and he, though indirectly, had something to do with it. Bah, it was not his fault Malfoy had the level of a first year at Hogwarts. Actually, even an eleven year old could defeat the blond.

"And you could not help it?"

"He wanted to prove he was better than me." Harry simply answered. "I think that if I had intervened with his duel, his pride would have been severely hurt. Besides, he was very far away from me."

"What kind of excuse is that?! Malfoy knows many of our plans and now… they will be verbally told to the stupid Dumbledore and his aurors!"

"Malfoy is not affected by Veritaserum, or any kind of truth serum. If he knows what is good for him, he will not open his mouth, Tom."

It had been a long time since the last time he had seen the Dark Lord so angry. And he was the only individual present for him to release such anger. He hoped there would not be too many _cruciatus_…

"I think, _Harry_, that you are taking this _too_ lightly. Not only have we given Dumbledore a source of information, but we have also lost our source inside the Ministry. I do not need to remind you that Draco is one of our main contacts there, do I?" Harry remained silence, although his eyes did not stop looking at Voldemort for even a second.

"It is not the only thing that went wrong, my Lord." Filldeserp muttered, biting his lower lip. Voldemort frowned and Harry guessed he was trying his best not to cast a curse on him right then. "We have not killed Granger."

Imaginary knives pierced him without mercy. Over and over. Making him feel once more unfathomable pain, and if it were not for his magnificent tolerance, it would have made him scream and beg for it all to end. He was under the effect of the Unforgivable Curse for several minutes, though no sound ever came out of his mouth. When it all came to an end, he had to lean against the nearest wall not to fall. He had been receiving too many tortures lately. His body had no yet recovered from the lesson the Dark Lord had taught him a few days earlier.

Damn. Too many things were going wrong.

"Can you explain your failure, Filldeserp?"

Voldemort's tone of voice was threatening. Most people would have died just by listening to it. However, Harry only shivered and it was mostly as a side effect of the Cruciatus.

"Malfoy did not manage to delay Longbottom for long. I was planning on hypnotizing Granger to make her fall deeply asleep and, from inside of her mind, make her suffer, recreating her worst nightmares. It is an endless torture and there is no escape from it. Well, except for death, but… A mind is infinite. I could have tortured her for an eternity. It would have been really entertaining.

"However, I had barely breached her mental barriers when Longbottom noticed the trap Malfoy had set for him and began running in my direction. I had to stop everything and disapparate before he got to my location."

"And Granger?"

"She is locked at one of the high security cells in the dungeons, my Lord."

"Perfect. I will take care of her later. You may leave."

* * *

Darkness. Shadows that clouded her sight. Her brown eyes remained closed since they were useless to her at that moment. A sickening smell overwhelmed the place, making her feel even worse than she did. Her wrists and ankles were strongly tied, immobilizing her completely in case she wanted to escape. She felt desperate. She did not understand what was happening and she was afraid of doing so. She did not want to remember, but to her mind came the image of those green eyes that she had seen many times in her dreams… and in her reality. Eyes that appeared very different from those they had once been. They inspired coldness… vengeance… resentment… indifference… They were a deathly acid. Acid she had unfortunately tasted.

She could not believe how she had ended inside the Fortress of the Dark Lord, tied against the floor in one of the feared dungeons. She knew the fate that awaited her: death. Nobody had ever escaped from the hands of the Dark Lord… Except for Harry, but that did not count anymore. In the best case, she would remain alive, but completely insane and incapable of being useful again in the war…

_Which she now realized… Was completely lost…_

There was no point in fighting. They would win. They knew all the dark techniques in the world… and if that was not true, they were close to accomplishing it. It would be impossible to defeat them. She had seen it at Diagon Alley… The simplicity of Harry's movement, as if he was not thinking them, as if… he knew beforehand everything his opponent would do. It was extremely frustrating knowing that all her training as an auror had been for nothing. Compared to him, she was just a pawn. He was ready to be the king on a game of chess.

If Harry was too far from anyone's reach, Voldemort was inaccessible. It seemed that every minute, his magical power grew. There were many people who believed he had obtained the immortality he had sought for so long. Dumbledore was reluctant to agree to the theory, but…

When was the last time anyone had seen Voldemort in an attack? Two months, at least.

_They did not know how far he was now. What were they going to do?_

Hermione put aside those thoughts. What did the magical world matter? She was locked in a dungeon, waiting for her death!

With any luck… the last think she would see would be Harry's emerald eyes…

The door to the cell opened, letting a thin white light enter for a few seconds, blinding Hermione's eyes. She heard soft steps walking toward her after closing the door, and everything went dark again. Those steps stopped, and the girl calculated some distance between her and her visit. She could not tell who it was amongst the dark, a death eater? Voldemort or Harry?"

An ice-cold hand took her chin, and, when she opened her eyes, she found an image that would hunt her every night, not allowing her to sleep. Cruel and evil scarlet eyes, which seemed infused with the blood of his victims and a desire for revenge, watching her with attention; and his gaunt and white face, which contrasted with the dark aura that his body emitted.

Lord Voldemort.

She strengthened all the mental shields she had been taught and prepared to resist the long session of torture. After all, she was Hermione Granger, one of the star aurors in the Ministry, and her mind had confidential information the Dark Lord would find useful.

She would resist. She had nothing to lose.

Except… her life.

"Good evening, Granger. I hope you are enjoying your stay in the Fortress. How long it will be, I cannot say yet. It will depend on how useful you are to me."

"Bastard." Hermione spat.

"We will fix that vocabulary of yours, Miss Granger. But, what do you think? Will you let me free access to your mind or do you prefer to suffer in vain?" Voldemort said, in false courtesy.

Hermione's answer was clear on the challenge in her brown eyes. Voldemort smiled openly. It had been a long time since someone so young looked at him straight in the eyes and refused to voluntarily participate in his plans. In some ways, she reminded him of Filldeserp during the time when they were still mortal enemies because of the ingenuity of her words and actions, because of the trusting glow in her eyes… Gryffindor at heart. It was completely understandable how that girl had once been his heir's best friend.

Well, if she wanted to suffer, he was not going to deprive himself of such delight.

He snapped his finger and next, Hermione began feeling deep pain in her limbs. Intense pain that spread throughout her arms and legs, as if it were poison flowing through her veins. The girl pressed her lips tightly to stop herself from screaming, but she soon had to bite her tongue as the pain progressed in intensity.

Her body contorted because of the extreme pain. Her bindings pulled her body in different directions… directions in which her limbs normally could not go. Hermione thought she would soon lose an arm or a leg… Her entire body burned, especially in the areas where the bindings were as that was where the most pressure originated. It did not take long before silence was broken by her screams of her horrendous suffering. No coherent thought was going through her mind.

Her body was too delicate to resist such torture. Pure blood bathed her skin.

Involuntary tears slid across her pale face, signs of the intense distress she felt. A distress that added to her depressed soul made her lose all her strength, causing her to stop fighting the pain.

Her mental shields gave in and fell apart, leaving free way for the Dark Lord to do whatever he wanted with her mind. Before focusing on the Legilimency he was going to use, he observed the weak figure with arrogance. How the delicious and tempting blood covered her features, and how her body seemed unevenly broken. It was a pity that Granger was a mudblood and an auror… She had a desirable body.

The first information he looked for was everything related to the Order of the Phoenix, uncovering _very_ interesting facts about the old geezer and his, like the training they were currently receiving ("So Longbottom has been training more ever since his defeat at the hands of Filldeserp? Hmm…"). Then, the crucial information the Ministry had put on the mind of the know-it-all Granger, waiting for her subsequent analysis and solution theories. That was how he found out of the inclusion of new defenses over strategic points all over England, information that not even Malfoy or any other of his death eaters inside the Ministry had managed to obtain.

After that, his attention was set on the rest of the girl's memories. It was very boring, since Granger's private life was not interesting at all, but perhaps something appealing would come out of it…

The memories presented themselves backward in time. It was not a pleasant surprise seeing that the memories she treasured the most were of the time she shared at Hogwarts with Harry. It really made him unease that she did not hate Filldeserp as the rest of his previous friends currently did.

But he reached a moment when the girl was between six and seven years old where Hermione's mind was blocked. It was not caused by an Obliviate. It was an event that the mind of the girl had instinctively hidden in the deepest of her mind.

_A thick Fog covered the place, hindering total contemplation. It seemed like a mirage, because of the feelings of distance and longing it inspired. After a short time, the fog began dispersing, revealing a River that separated two great land masses._

_One was full of life, color, and Light… With green and abundant forests, high and apparently unreachable mountains, clear and warm water… All illuminated by an imaginary white light._

_On the other side was its brutal opposite. Death, ruins, and darkness. Fire burning everything. Dryness. Dirtyness. Pain… And more Darkness. It was hell, in its strong and solid representation._

_The River that separated them was the only thing the two dimensions had in common, and the only connection between them. But only a ferry could cross the River. And only a death person could do so, otherwise… They would return to their world without further thought._

_Hell does not belong in Life._

_A shining and gigantic sunrise could be seen in the Horizon, which offset the shadows of hell and brightened the warmth of the Living paradise. The rays of the sun were reflected by the clear blue water. It was a beautiful image._

_It was unfortunate that on the ferry navigating toward hell there was an innocent girl waiting to be led to the Judges._

_But she never got there. She was rejected. They said it was not her time yet. She could continue living: they forgave her. And they would give her more life than she had previously had._

_They gave her Power. The Power of dying and being brought back to life even after creating a bond with the World of the Death._

_She had been clinically death for ten minutes because of an incident that should never have happened. She came back to life after causing her parents the worst grief possible: knowing they had lost their girl and they had not been able to do anything about it. The doctors said it was a miracle… that she was a prodigy._

_And she truly was._

_Having crossed the River Styx and returned… not many had been able to._

And among them was the most powerful Dark Lord of all time, Voldemort, who immediately recognized the memory… as it was so similar to the one he had in his own mind. When he had failed to murder Harry as a baby, for a thousand of a second… he had been death. It was then when he visited Hell.

He had also been given powers by the Judges, as an undeserving present. But… the power depended on each person. He wondered which was Granger's great potential… It was obvious she had not shown it yet.

And that was when the Dark Lord realized the young woman was a precious jewel not to be discarded. A new and ingenious plan began formulating at an overwhelming speed in Voldemort's mind.

Hermione Granger had a fate other than death. Her stay in the Fortress would be longer than they had expected…

Then, Voldemort lowered his gaze to the auror in question. She had passed out because of the physical and mental exhaustion caused by the torture she received. Her breathing was uneven and she needed immediate medical attention. With a knowing smile, Voldemort untied her bindings and with a snap of his fingers he sent the girl to one of the rooms in the tower.

He had to speak with Filldeserp.

* * *

_August 10th, 2004_

Her first feeling that morning was distressing pain, although it was more subdued than the night before…

The night before. Suddenly, her mind put the pieces together and she was able to remember the succession of events. She had gone with Neville to visit her father's grave at the cemetery, she had been kidnapped by Filldeserp and tortured afterwards by Voldemort, only to end up giving him all the information she held in her mind. She felt the most dishonorable and impure person on earth.

She had betrayed them. Everyone she cared about. Every person who ever trusted her. She had not resisted the torture with all her power… and those were the results: everything she had fought for would be lost amongst the destruction that was approaching.

Dry tears came out of her eyes and, amongst her desperation, she tried to hug herself, holding her knees and arms to her chest.

_Surprisingly… she was able to._

Her eyes opened when she realized she could move every part of her body, not without pain… but not as intense as it should be. Besides, she should have been tied and not… lying on a comfortable bed, in a luxurious room?

The scene shocked her. It truly did. She thought she would find herself again in a dark cell, just waiting for another torture until the day she would die. Was it an illusion? No, the touch of everything was too real to be a dream. She felt pain too deeply inside of her for it to be imaginary.

Then? Why did she feel like a princess in a fairy tale?

Slowly she put her feet on the floor and tried to stand up, but the attempt made her swallow a scream of pain. She bit her lower lip and walked slowly until she reached the center of the room. Against the nearest wall, she saw a beautiful old mirror, where she clearly saw her reflection.

She looked terrible. Her eyes were red from crying and her skin was pale because of the blood loss. Her brown hair was dirty and it fell graceless over her shoulders. For the first time she saw it so unsettled. She was wearing elegant light pink pajamas, of special fabric, comfortable and soft. It did not look bad on her at all.

She examined her body with more attention. She had a couple of scars, but no other significant sign of her torture. She had definitely been healed. But… why? She did not understand why the Dark Lord tortured his victims to then play the role of healer. It was not rational. Then…?

Besides, she had heard that the only branch of magic in which Voldemort did not specialize was healing. He had never been interested in learning more than the key concepts. That was what potions were for… Then, it was unlikely that the Dark Lord himself had taken care of her well being.

Who…?

The door opened and through it Filldeserp's imposing figure entered. She turned toward him abruptly, stunned and not knowing how to react to his presence. He, instead, directed at her a sligthly mocking smile after analyzing her with his eyes without any subtlety.

In his hands he had a big package, which he laid on the bed she had slept on.

"Good morning, Granger. From what I see, you have recovered more than well."

Hermione did not answer. She had not returned from her reverie, caused by unknown reasons.

"The Lord has requested your presence at breakfast, so get ready," he pointed at the package, "and come downstairs quickly." With a nod, he indicated which door would lead her there. "Prepare yourself for a long and interesting conversation…" Without saying more, he left as suddenly as he had entered.

If Hermione had been surprised before, she was now terrified. What were those two planning? She did not think she could stand a meal with the Dark Lord's evil and clever eyes on her, and much less, the presence of Filldeserp. But she could not disobey any orders. Both had authority over her while she remained in the Fortress and besides… There was no point in going against them. Her body shivered remembering the torture she had suffered.

Not knowing what else to do Hermione walked to the bed to take the package and to find out its contents. How immense was her astonishment… would be impossible to calculate when in her hand she found a black dress, with red sleeves with fine elaborated hand-made details, and a thin red belt. The cleavage was not too low, but modest. Just by seeing it she knew she would adjust easily to the style.

She changed clothes and walked to the wardrobe on one of the corners of the room. She still needed to find shoes to fit with the dress. After opening it, she found a countless amount of elegant and fine clothes, which probably cost galleons. She wondered why Potter had brought her a dress when there were plenty of beautiful clothes. In the end, she found a pair of black boots with a low heel that matched her outfit perfectly.

Perfect. Everything was ready, except her hair. But there was no quick way of washing it and straightening it, at least not without a wand. She sighed. She would have to bear the contrast between the beauty of the dress and the ugliness of her hair. How humiliating.

She exited the room and found herself in a small living room with a house elf politely waiting for her. Hermione raised an eyebrow skeptic, although she did not know why she was surprised. Perhaps because she thought Filldeserp would be waiting for her? She approached the creature which made a slight bow that caught her by surprise. Was she really not a prisoner?

"I will take you to the Master, miss. But you cannot show yourself like that to the Master, miss!" The elf yelled upset. With a snap of his fingers, he made Hermione's hair look as nice as it had the day before. "Follow me."

She saw the house elf turned toward the door. She made some odd movements with his worn-out hands and it opened, which made Hermione confirm her theory that if she tried to escape, it would be impossible for her to leave the room if she did not know the charm keeping her there.

She followed the elf through the long hallways. She was sure they were taking alternative routes so as not to walk by any death eaters. She could not imagine the Fortress to be uninhabited, although it could have been too early for anyone to be there. She did not know what time it was.

For a moment, the idea of running away from the elf and leaving the Fortress formed in her head, although it was just a repressed impulse. She knew very well that the barriers of the place would stop her from disapparating until she was several miles away, where she would never get. Besides, the punishment would be worst than she could stand… She had to first find out what they wanted that made them treat her in such a respectful and ceremonial manner.

The elf stopped in front of a big oak door, decorated with emblems of threatening snakes twisted together. The house elf pointed at the door, made a slight bow, and disapparated. Hermione guessed the house elves avoided the Dark Lord and his heir at any cost. How complicated would it be for her to open the door, enter, bow, and leave the place?

She took a deep breath, gathering the courage that as a noble Gryffindor characterized her. She pushed the door and entered the dining room. She immediately felt the two powerful auras that were found inside: they were too notorious to be ignored. Also, the delicious smell coming from the food on the long table made her stomach growl, which reminded her of her lack of strength and the last time she had eaten. But she did not have the courage to approach them.

Voldemort, at the head of the table, observed her with a smirk while Filldeserp, at his right side, evaluated her with curiosity, trying to pretend indifference to her interruption. Hermione felt nervous to their scrutiny and her cheeks took a pink color.

"Do not be shy, Hermione." Voldemort said in a tone full of deride. "Sit down with us." He invited her to sit on Harry's right side.

Hermione knew she did not have a choice. She walked slowly to her seat, with her eyes on the floor. She did not know what made her more uncomfortable: the Dark Lord's look of outrage or the amusement in Filldeserp's eyes, because, despite not seeing them directly, she could imagine their expressions.

"Lift your face, Hermione." Harry suggested. She looked at him with surprise and he smiled. "A woman looking down is either submissive or embarrassed of her situation. Show your personality by looking straight ahead."

"Why…? Why are you saying that?" She asked.

"We will get to that." He answered with a mysterious smile. Hermione could not understand anything. Why the hospitality?

She could not believe the kindness Filldeserp was showing toward her. She turned her almond eyes to observe Voldemort's reaction. Instead of being angry, or any similar emotion, he smiled pleased and encouraged her to eat. She stopped hesitd took her seat, trying not to look down.

A cup of tea and some sweet treats instantly appeared in front of her. That breakfast was unusual. She noticed both dark wizards were drinking black coffee. She felt off, thinking that the circumstances were fitting of a family breakfast and not of wizards that in the past had been enemies.

Besides… she had never seen Harry drink coffee while at Hogwarts. Perhaps it was a habit taken since he became Voldemort's heir…

She took a sip of her tea while she listened to the casual conversation that Voldemort and Filldeserp kept.

"Romania has accepted the treaty suggested by the British Ministry of Magic." Filldeserp informed them. "It was on today's Prophet, though McNair had already guaranteed it."

"It is still useless." Voldemort commented in a bored tone of voice. "The dragons provide no advantage against our magical creatures. It will not be hard to defeat them. What about MacMillan?"

"According to Smith, he could not believe the news the Order of the Phoenix gave him early this morning…" Amusement was perceptible on Filldeserp's voice. "Smith believe's Malfoy's declaration will be in ten days, although he is sure he is not being kept inside the Ministry."

"Obviously. Dumbledore will not make the same mistakes so many times. Malfoy is a great source of information for the Order."

"Or that is what they think…" The Dark Lord's scarlet eyes glowed in approval of his heir's comment.

"They are probably keeping him at Headquarters, the safest place for them…" Voldemort gave a sign of exasperation with his eyes and Harry smiled, although his eyes gazed momentarily at Hermione, who had been left paralyzed by their words.

"You know the location of Headquarters?" Hermione asked, not believing it.

"It was not hard to discover, Granger. But it is not necessary for us to infiltrate the building… We have total control over it, right, Filldeserp?"

"Even with the forced relocation from Grimmauld Place, it was easy to know where the next headquarters would be, having a record of all homes to the service of the Order… which were not many at the time. Added to the intrusion of a couple of spies, we confirmed the many theories of its location. When was the last relocation? A couple of months ago, right?"

Hermione could not understand how the Order could be so predictable for Filldeserp and Voldemort, who spoke of the subject as if it was trivial. She could not believe that her life had been in the hands of the enemy the entire time and that with just an order from them, the life of any member of the Order could be taken. That was why the rescues of imprisoned death eaters were frequent: they had everything they needed for the situation.

"You were in charge of one of the auror departments, were you not, Granger?" Voldemort inquired, including her in the conversation. She nodded, knowing there was no point in lying. Not only because of the possibility of Legilimency, but also because Voldemort had examined all her memories. It would be impossible for him to not know something like that. "Today that department must be chaos." Voldemort smiled to the mental image.

"You disappearance will cause a great impact on the Order as well." Harry laughed, "It would be a great moment for an attack…"

"It could be…" Voldemort nodded.

Hermione went pale, although that was not the most important thing happening. Her eyes were fully open from shock. The behavior between Harry and Voldemort was almost… paternal. In particular, the trusting looks the pair exchanged; the pride the scarlet eyes showed when looking at Harry; and how they almost complimented each other. If that was how they were during a conversation, she did not want to picture the pair on a duel. Unstoppable.

Throghout the entire breakfast, Hermione remained lost in her thoughts, trying not to pay attention to what the dark wizards were saying, who were discussing the many ways they could infiltrate Headquarters and poison everyone. They were joking…. She felt sick because of the image… However, something inside of her felt pleased as well. She was able to hear Harry's laugh again… even if it was different from the one she had once known. She was able to see his green eyes again… which she had so longed for…

When the pleasant conversation came to an end, Voldemort and Filldeserp became silent, while the first got rid of everything that indicated that on that table breakfast had taken place. Hermione guessed she would find out what was happening. She needed it.

"Well, Granger, to be honest, I can imagine you must be questioning many things." Voldemort began. "Yesterday, as you know well, I was willing to kill you and was going to do so after analyzing every detail inside your mind, but… there was a change of plans in the end."

Did that mean they were not going to kill her…?

"We will not return you to the Order of the Phoenix. Do not hold useless hope." The Dark Lord continued. Filldeserp remained quiet. "But I will allow you to choose whether you want to live or die."

"What?" Hermione asked, confused.

Why? Why the sudden change of mind? She was a mudblood! According to them, she did not deserve to live! And now they let her choose?

Voldemort took a deep breath, gathering the patience that had never characterized him.

"You can die a slow and painful death, as you were going to, or you can live… But of course, you will have to cooperate."

"I will never be one of your dirty death eaters!" Hermione stood up, full of indignation. Voldemort smiled to the direct insult the girl had directed to his followers.

"I was not referring to that, dear Hermione." Sarcasm was evident on his voice. "You will be trained. We will show you the meaning of being in the dark side. You will be given time, and when we think necessary, you will be asked again… Whether you want to join us, or die. But I assure you, you will not be a mere death eater. You would be… how can I phrase it? Something more special than them…"

"More special? Oh, yeah, right! I am a mudblood!"

"We are willing to ignore your condition, Granger." Filldeserp answered dryly. It was the first time he spoke in that conversation. "Shut your mouth for a second and think over what we are proposing. Do you have anything to lose?"

"What do I have to lose?" She muttered. "My honor! That you were capable of betraying us… betraying me… does not mean that I can do the same shameless thing." Filldeserp remained as unshakeable as he had been. Such honest mention of his past, to the treachery he had committed, did not affect him at all.

"You will not be betraying them, Granger. We are not asking you to go out to the battlefield and kill every muggle that crosses your path…"

"I would be placing myself on their side, anyways." Hermione interrupted him.

"Look, Granger, this is very simple. If you want to die, we will kill you and we will have one mudblood less in the world. But we are giving you an opportunity that not many would waste… You will not do anything you do not want." Filldeserp insisted with coldness.

"And why the exclusive treatment?"

"Because you have an intelligent and organized mind, and a great power that you should explore… You are someone who could be useful to the Cause. Blood would not be as important in this case."

There was something that Hermione still did not understand. She knew of people who were efficient and had been killed without a second thought, even if they had been pure bloods. Why was she not killed? Something important had happened… They needed her for something.

_They were offering to train her_.

And if she was not pleased with the dark side, they would kill her, but at a later time. In a way, they were giving her a choice, even if everything seemed not to be in her favor.

Harry was right. With such proposal, she had nothing to lose. As she had been told, she did not have to kill anyone and she would learn the famous Dark Arts without giving anything significant in exchange. It was obvious what they wanted to do: to corrupt her so that she would willingly join them and thus, increase the number of allies. In no way was she going to fall, so there was no real risk.

And really… she had no reason to return to the Order of the Phoenix. Even if she wanted to, she could not. She technically had Neville, and Ron… but they would survive without her. She was not so necessary in that war. And she would not be collaborating either with the Dark Lord. She could have momentary neutrality from both sides. And at the same time, find out why the special treatment.

"Alright." She took a deep breath before formulating the next words. "I accept."

"Perfect." Voldemort showed her a clever smile. "You will be Filldeserp's protégée. He will train you. "Her brown eyes turned to her previous friend, who returned the look with apathy. "You will begin your training now, am I right?" He turned to his heir for confirmation.

"That is correct, my Lord."

"Excellent."

Both Harry and Hermione stood up, interpreting that as the ideal moment to leave the dining room.

It would be interesting to see how different the life in the Fortress was from her own… A life of luxury and commodities. However… it also meant big sacrifices, that she did not know she would be willing to do.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **This story does not belong to me. The characters belong to the amazing J. K. Rowling, and the story originally belongs to Parvati-Blossom, who has wonderfully agreed to let me translate it. If able, you should really consider reading the original version in Spanish.

**Warning: **Some chapters may contain very strong language and images. Torture is a common occurrence in the dark side, please keep that in mind.

I want to let you know in advance that I will most likely not publish new chapters during December. It is a very hectic month for me and I probably won't have time to write, or translate in this case. I will return to the two-week schedule the second week of January. And of course, I will continue posting throughout this month!

Answering Universal-Public-Cockblocker's question, Filldeserp's name comes from Catalan and it means Son of the Serpent. Was anyone able to guess that?

I hope some of your questions and theories have been answered, and that you are formulating more and more.

Thank you for reading! And thank you to everyone who left reviews (please keep them coming)!

* * *

_I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar._

_I am the son and heir of nothing in particular._

* * *

**Chapter 6**

_August 10th, 2004_

She remained silent while Filldeserp exchanged in whispers some last words with the Dark Lord before leaving with her toward her chambers, where they would have their first lesson. Hermione did not really know how to feel about what was happening. When she was kidnapped, she thought she would die and she had felt relieved knowing she would leave behind the life that had hurt her every day. Nevertheless, Voldemort's plans had changed and there she was, baptized as the protégée of the man who used to be her best friend.

Although she knew that there was nothing left of her best friend in that cold person with merciless green eyes. She remembered the authentic glow they once had… they had moved every person that had seen them. None of that warm feeling remained in them… or in his essence. He had not seen him long enough to judge him, but he rarely smiled… and if he did, it was a mere shadow of the past, more like a contemptuous grin.

She walked behind him, submissive, feeling self-conscious and suffocated by the immense walls in the Fortress. The hallways were empty and that made her feel even more intimidated. There was nobody there to help her. There was nobody there to listen to her screams or desperation. A thousand questions were formulating in her mind every second, but she did not dare ask them out loud. Besides, the information was overwhelming her and she needed time to reorganize her thoughts. Once more.

Filldeserp's aura made her feel afraid. All of him made an impact on her, specially her aristocratic looks. He was imposing, and she was weak… She remembered her impressions in Diagon Alley and realized that she had only seen a slight part of his power there. Now that she had him close and she was behind enemy lines, the effect he had over her doubled.

She wondered how different reality would be if Harry had not switched sides. Would he had become so powerful? She had never seen him so confident of his powers when they were together at Hogwarts, so she guessed that realities would be very different. But… examining his cruel acts, all his progress turned dark. She could never congratulate someone who abused power to kill people. To torture them without mercy. Manipulating innocent people…

Manipulating… would she also be under his control? After all, she did not have many options other than obeying the orders of both Dark Lords. What would they teach her? With what purpose? They had not even brainwashed her to change her loyalties from the side of the Light. Then, why would they put effort in teaching her when they did not know if she would turn against them? She was rambling. She could do nothing against Filldeserp and Voldemort, together. She was only a star auror. However… she had to at least try to escape. She had nothing to lose, even if her abilities were minimal, if not scarce. Nobody had escaped from the Fortress once captured, but… there was always a first time for everything. What if she managed?

Filldeserp pulled her out of her thoughts when they arrived to the door to her chambers. He made a series of odd hand motions, combined with some words that Hermione did not hear. Immediately, the door opened, giving them entrance. Potter turned to see her and motioned to let her in first. Hermione bit her lower lip and followed the silent command. He followed her, closing the door behind him.

Locked again.

Now that she was more relaxed, she noticed how cozy the living room was. There were a couple of couches and a small table in the center, close to a big fireplace. On one of the walls was a bookcase with thick and appealing books, which their contents, she guessed, were dark arts. There were two doors other than the exit, one which took her to the bedroom and another that she had not seen before because of the morning's chaos.

She was surprised to find Filldeserp patiently waiting for her to finish observing what would be her private chambers for the indefinite time she would remain there. She blushed slightly because of her distraction, provoking a smirk on the face of her previous friend, who then walked to the mysterious door.

"This door will take us to the training room." Filldeserp explained, ending the silence. "For you to get an idea, it works like the Room of Requirement."

"Does it change according to need?" Hermione asked and he nodded.

Voldemort's heir opened the door after a moment of concentration. Hermione entered behind him and was surprised by what she saw, although she composed herself quickly realizing that it was nothing to be surprised of coming from the Dark Lords. The training room had a round table and a couple of chairs on one of the corners. On the other side, on the walls, there were countless amount of weapons and tools that would work for physical combat.

It was the room of arrogance. It inspired her a troubling feeling… as if it kept many secrets, a lot of knowledge… that would not be possible to all be revealed even in a million years.

"It is clear you will not be able to enter this place on your own. Only the Lord and I have access. The consequences would be serious if you tried by yourself."

Hermione did not need Filldeserp to explain more to understand his point. Besides, with the threatening look he gave her, she had the warning clear in her mind. It was obvious he would not let her enter the room on her own. She could use the weapons to defend against them, even attack them if the situation aroused. But she doubted she would accomplish much. She had seen Filldeserp doing physical combat… she was not even close.

No. Perhaps they did not want her to use those weapons to hurt herself. Even though she could do it with simpler methods… but if it came to that, there were many reasons for which they were not going to grant her access.

In the end, she sighed with resignation. She was a prisoner with some privileges, but a prisoner. Everything she did would be watched by Voldemort and Filldeserp, and she needed to get used to the idea. The Dark Lord had said that she was Filldeserp's protégée, with Everything that it entitled.

Now that she thought about it… Perhaps Harry had already followed the orders of the Dark Lord the night before… orders to take care of her after the torture she had suffered. Had it definitely been him?

She watched how Harry sat on one of the chairs and noticed he was waiting for her to do the same. She did not want to imagine what it would cost her if she abused his patience. She sat on the opposite side of him, confronting him. It was harsh seeing Filldeserp… and Harry at the same time on those emerald eyes. He showed an expression of disgust and she tried to focus on reality. There was no point on focusing on the past.

"Let us see… on the first lessons we will cover the key points in the history of dark magic, in particular the great characters that symbolized change in the ideals of the dark side, since, as you know, the battle between good and evil goes back to ancient times." Hermione noticed the irony on his last words, but Filldeserp did not give him time to say anything.

"This will help you understand better the current situation in the Magical World, and in particular the war we are living. There is a Japanese proverb that says: 'If you want to know the past, look to the present, which is its direct result. If you want to know the future, look to the present, which is its cause.' Despite it being muggle reasoning, is quite accurate. And in that the study of history is based."

"Since when are you familiar with Japanese muggle culture?" Hermione asked not able to stop herself. After all, she was an insufferable know-it-all.

Filldeserp raised both eyebrows in an uninterested manner and she thought he was not going to respond, but to her surprise, he did.

"Muggles have an odd reasoning on life, Granger. Despite being as insignificant as they are, certain points can be rescued from their… how should we call it? Intelligence? Philosophy?" He responded mockingly.

"Not all muggles are insignificant." Hermione countered, irritated.

"Oh, but most are, right?" An evil smile appeared on the face of Voldemort's heir, but it soon vanished. "They are humans, and that species tends to always do the wrong thing."

"You talk as if you are not human, Harry." And she slowly emphasized the Harry, which made Filldeserp cluck his tongue in disapproval.

"Perhaps I am not." He smiled mysteriously. "Who knows?"

"What do you mean?" Herm paled slightly to the idea.

"After years of training, of practicing rituals and an incredible variety of dark magic, who knows whether I am still human?" His voice was full of sarcasm, but Hermione did not give in.

"Because you still feel. Because somehow… you still smile." She lowered her gaze to her lap. She should not confront those green eyes. She did not want to see the inhumanity in them… she wanted to still believe that Harry lived behind all the shadows.

The cold hand of the one who once was his best friend took her chin and raised her imperiously. His eyes flashed dangerously.

"What did I tell you about posture, Granger? You have to show determination and pride, or you will end up treated like a slave."

"I…" Words did not want to come out. Harry's hand exercising pressure on her neck began causing her pain.

"Allow me to doubt being human, since I do not feel. I do not care about feeling. It is unnecessary and stupid. Feeling is what condemns you." The coldness in his voice penetrated Hermione's mind, and without being able to help herself, her brown eyes shined because of tears.

"That's not true!" Hermione exclaimed, though she began finding it hard to breath. "To feel is a great virtue… it gives you courage. The desire to protect others, people whom you love, is what gives you energy to live. You always said and believed that. When I met you, I also began believing in it and that is why I am now alive. Do you think that's stupid? Wrong?"

"I think that before beginning today's lesson, it would be better if we clarify certain factors." He let go of her, sitting correctly on his chair. "Let us begin. Harry Potter is death. Death. Do you understand? I know very well what goes through your head every time you look at me… the Harry you look for is gone."

"You lie!" Hermione shouted, standing up and glaring at Filldeserp. Something she was not going to allow was him erasing her memories…

He also stood up, with his face resembling a perfect mask, and Hermione noticed how much he had grown. Added to his powerful aura, she almost bit her tongue and sat again, but she did not let herself be intimidated. Not for the moment.

"Harry Potter is death, Granger. That your stubborn mind does not want to understand is not my fault."

Hermione held back a sob. Those words would haunt her for months. She knew they were true, Ron and Neville had repeated them to her over and over throughout the years, but she had not wanted to believe them. And she did not want to believe Filldeserp either, but his evil gaze made all her beliefs inevitably crumble. Even though… even though… She did not want to give up. If Harry was still alive amongst the shadows, she could be the one to bring him back… who would help him be human again.

But she was losing strength. With every word she heard coming out from Filldeserp's lips, her illusions were breaking. She was embarrassed of her ingenuity and her devote trust; nevertheless, she wanted to try.

"The past does not exist. Forget the Order of the Phoenix. You should not feel guilt when you should be focusing on what you are being taught, because I assure you it is a unique opportunity… It has been a long time since the Lord asked me to train someone. If you want to dramatize the situation, do it, but you should be aware of the consequences. The fact that you are my protégée does not mean that I will keep you from your nightmares at night. I might even encourage them…"

"What does it exactly mean that I am your protégée?" The Gryffindor found the courage to ask.

"You are under my care, which means you will obey all orders and instructions that I give with complete disposition. If I want, I can punish you without reason as the Dark Lord will not interfere. It also means that I have to take care of all your wounds. For that same reason I healed you last night."

Hermione blushed slightly to what that meant. Every part of her body had been seen to, and all her wounds had been healed…

"If I saw you naked, it was for professional reasons. So do not create any fantasies." He paused for a moment before continuing. "And last, you will exclusively work on your lessons. There are many topics in which you need to improve, and that is why you are given time to practice such skills. Take it seriously or this will end."

She wanted to yell at him, hit him, or insult him. To vent all the anger and frustration she was feeling. She had never felt so empty. She had to forget a past she loved, that had protected her for years. She had to change and obey the orders of that person who repeated over and over through his cruel eyes that her Harry was death. Every warm feeling vanished from the room at that moment. She felt vulnerable, alone. She began silently sobbing, covering her face with her hands, wishing nothing more than a protective hug, a chest where she could take refuge and get rid of all the suffering.

But the only thing she got was a rude slap on her left cheek, which made her wake up from her reverie, and return to the cruel reality. Filldeserp was looking at her with hatred, almost with disgust, standing next to her. And because of the impulse and the shock from the hit, she was now miserably lying on the floor, shaking and almost feeling how her heart shattered in pieces.

"Damn mudblood. You are weaker than I thought. Disappointing. To be honest… I expected more from the insufferable know-it-all." The tears increased, and with them, embarrassment. "Stop crying, stupid!"

"Shut up!" Hermione yelled at him, closing her eyes tightly and putting her hands on her ears, as if that would stop her from listening to his voice.

She did not see the anger on his eyes, nor knew how or when, but she found herself against a wall, pathetically standing, being threatened by Filldeserp's wand on her neck. She did not want to open her eyes. She really did not want to, but he forced her.

She never felt more terrified in her life. His eyes did not show any warmth, or patience. Not even disgust. They were full of hatred, overwhelming and out of control. The green in his eyes seemed lost, overtook by a metallic black that even appeared to have a slight hint of red. She knew then he was not human, and that he was without a doubt… Voldemort's heir. Under his evil gaze, every part of her shivered in fear. There was no one more dangerous in the world than the person in front of her.

"Never, and I repeat, never dare to disrespect me. You are not capable of imagining in how many ways I can torture you, and I assure you that with the weakness you are showing, you would not stand even the lightest of them."

Hermione fell on her knees when he pulled his wand away seconds later, and she took a deep breath to try to control her body and clear her head. It took her several minutes to compose herself; however, when she did, no tears showed in her face and she could almost see a hint of pride on Filldeserp's expression.

They went back to their seats and this time she made sure to keep looking up.

"Alright. We were talking about the insignificance of muggles." He began. She remained silence. "But before that, we had been talking about history and with it we shall begin.

"Although our story goes back to much before, I think it would be ideal for us to begin with Salazar Slytherin, as he had a great influence on current ideals, is that correct?" Hermione slightly nodded. "Have you ever questioned why he hated muggles and mudbloods so much? Since, he was one of the first and main promoters of such discrimination."

"I always thought that it had always been like it is now, hatred without reason, in a belief of superiority and having power over them."

"And you never questioned from where that hatred first came from? The first wizard most likely had his reasons, do you not agree?" After slight hesitation, she nodded. "Salazar Slytherin had good reasons, in fact." She leaned forward slightly, interested in the story that no book told.

"Imagine that when Hogwarts was built, wizards and witches were hunted by muggles, to be burn at the stake or through other torturous means. Adults, obviously, had enough training to defend themselves and escape. What happened to children, then? In some lucky cases, they could have survived thanks to their accidental magic. But most of the time… they did not have how to protect themselves. They died with not real alternative. That happened to Slytherin's children." Filldeserp finished. Hermione opened her eyes wide because of the surprise and covered her mouth with her hand instantly.

"But… But… how can there be a descendant of Slytherin then?"

"Just imagine he had many children. Something normal at the time. The oldest had enough training to escape, if the situation was given (although they were very careful to insure it did not come to that). But the rest died burned, right in the eyes of Salazar and his wife, who could do nothing to save them."

"Why couldn't they?"

"Imagine that despite everything, muggles were not stupid, Hermione. Besides, their numbers were larger than ours. It is not a fact that has changed much in the present, but at least we are better balanced. Muggles tried to stop Slytherin for long enough so that it was too late. In fact, he arrived just in time to watch the… show. I am sure you will understand the pain of a father…"

"Then… then… Slytherin hated muggles because of that. And muggleborn because…"

"No, he did not hate muggleborn. He did hate their parents, but he actually wanted to protect them from the same pain his children had to suffer. He feared that their parents would turn them in and accused them of witchcraft. He wanted to avoid repeating history. Though with time, he realized that mudbloods were not keeping well the secret of Hogwarts… many students ended up at the stake because of their classmates, who were too comfortable with the ideals given to them by their parents, betraying their own magic. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw had different opinions about it, and misinterpreted Slytherin when once, on an impulse, he expressed his wish of not having any muggleborn in the castle, to avoid such events. His students did not take long finding out his opinion and adapted it. As such, Slytherin decided to leave, outraged because of what was happening, leaving behind the Chamber of Secrets. His ideals wasted."

"What do you mean by 'his ideals wasted'?" Filldeserp sighed.

"The thirst for revenge, Granger. Slytherin discovered new types of dark magic, and the experiments he made throughout his life were magnificent, but greatly evil. Dark magic tends to do that. It consumes even the strongest willpower. His ideals were corrupted. He abandoned everything he had at Hogwarts. His wife died some time before, overcome by chronic depression, and his son had disappeared from England. He had nothing to lose. And that made him become one of the darkest wizards of his time."

"A Dark Lord?" He shook his head in response.

"He could have gotten that title and more, but he was not known as a serial killer. He tortured muggles and experimented with them as if they were lab rats, yes, but he did not begin any wars or revolutions. His greed did not take him to extremes, nor did he want any recognition. He did not need it."

Hermione analyzed the information she had received. The story made sense, even if it was full of malicious ideals and revenge. She could easily imagine the muggles discovering the secret of Hogwarts and killing little children because of the prejudice they had toward wizards. She could also understand the pain and loneliness that the founder of the house of snakes felt when he lost his children and his wife. But nothing justified the discrimination against muggleborn in the present.

"Do you believe Slytherin ideals? Do you think that we, muggleborn, are treacherous? Slander on magic?" She asked Filldeserp. She thought she might have seen a hint of surprise in his eyes, but she might have imagined it.

"Many muggleborn betrayed magical society." He said. Silence followed his statement, and when Hermione began thinking that he would not say more, he continued. "And many pure bloods also betrayed society."

Hermione smiled internally. Even if that was not a response that the Harry from Hogwarts would have given her, it was also not Voldemort's. And that reassured her slightly.

"Blood does not matter. Neither does social or economical status. People betray because of their ideals, their background, their loyalties… Ignorant people who do not know what power is, or how to handle it. They are blinded by it… and they are not worried about dying for a little acknowledgment. They do not care to die so long as they do it for a just and noble reason. But… is there such a thing that makes it worth it? That has such characteristics?"

"Not everyone is like that." Hermione said. "Not everyone wants to die like that. Not everyone wants power. Not everyone betrays…"

"No?" He asked. The determination in his eyes made her doubt.

"No. There are people who always remain firm in their convictions."

"Perhaps one day you will face the fact that such humanity does not exist. It is a fantasy created by men. If there was not someone who believed in loyalty, there would not be treasons, right?"

"It is not a fantasy!"

"The world is rotten, Granger."

"It can change, it can get better."

"Ah." He muttered, narrowing his eyes. "Hope. Tell me, Hermione… was it not Hope what made people believe in me?" She did not respond because she knew what his point would be. "What happened to that 'Hope'?"

Hermione closed her eyes with sadness. She still had in her mind the expressions of pain, of desperation, that the Magical Community had shown with the news of the betrayal of the Boy-Who-Lived. The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Betray. To Kill. To Become the One whom he was supposed to be destined to defeat.

If he, a seventeen year old boy with tremendous potential and willpower, had fallen to the dark and had lost hope, what was left for them, the common and unskillful wizards…? What faith could they have? What ideals could they defend?

"The world is hypocritical. History has more than once told us the great feats accomplished by great characters… heroes. But those feats are trash, mere deceit. There are no heroes. Worthy people easily blend within the rest. What can you wait for? A change, perhaps? But… are changes good or bad? When the events that changed humanity occurred, did those changes help? How can you tell if change is totally good or bad?

"Nothing is absolute in this world." He continued. "What might be good for you could be bad for me. That balance between good and evil is necessary for the world. But… what would happen if it broke? If there was no more balance?"

"There would not be evil… or good." Hermione whispered. Filldeserp nodded.

"What would there be?"

"Someone who Dominates."

"Power." He corrected. "If balance disappeared, if one of them ceased to exist, the other would dominate. It would have absolute power."

"But there would also be someone who doesn't have it. Someone who would be too weak to possess it." Hermione added.

"Exactly. And how do you know when the change happens? When do you know if either good or evil have ceased to exist… to transform into power and weakness?

"When change is inevitable… necessary." She said, after seconds of thought. "When there is nobody who wants to fight… or when there is no more hope."

"When good and evil are gone, there will not be a reason to fight." Filldeserp said calmly. "And why Hope when it has no foundation? When there is no chance for balance?"

"Hope will always live. It does not need a reality to be tied to, the spirit of man is instinctively bonded to such Faith. No matter how dark it is… there will always be the illusion that a light will guide the way."

"That is what makes this world so hypocritical. They hope for too many things…but not do much."

Hermione remained silence. Perhaps Filldeserp was right. Maybe… Hope did not consist on her bond with the man, but with the fulfillment of such bond. To achieve the triumph of such Faith. The will of fighting was something very unstable. In a second, her world could crumble and there would be nothing for her to lean on, there would be no dreams. Just a Gigantic Void. Easy to Manipulate. Hard to fill again.

Were there things such as Good and Evil? After all… only an action was needed, in a short amount of time, for beliefs to lose meaning. Constant Balance would be broke one day. It would lose its role. It would not even be needed. There would be someone who would dominate. But in the mean time… there would be rebellions. Wars. And deaths.

And if there was such thing as Good and Evil, why did they do it?

"Sometimes… maybe there was just Good… or just Evil… but absolute domination died, right?" Hermione whispered. Filldeserp put a sour face.

"The man had and will always have a dark side. We can assume that before surpassing animal intelligence they were innocent beings. They might have killed, but only to survive. At least they had an excuse. But the time came when… they did not need excuses. The pleasure of the action… of feeling that you have in your hands the lives of people who are incapable of defending themselves; who cannot run. Who made a serious mistake or simply… were at the wrong place. You are an auror, are you not?" He did not wait for Hermione's answer since he knew it beforehand. "Most likely, in some mission, you had to kill death eaters. Is that right or wrong?"

"It is neither right… or wrong…" She answered, thinking every word. "It's… survival."

"And at the time of survival, 'the end justifies the means.'" With a satisfied smile, Filldeserp waved his hand and on the table appeared three thick books. Hermione observed them with interests. "For tomorrow, you will read these books and tell me its contents."

"But…" Her brown eyes open widely to the surprise assignment. It was impossible to read such books in less than twenty-four hours!

"Class dismissed." Filldeserp said dryly, stopping all complain.

* * *

A woman walked with pride through the hallways of the Fortress, hallways that she knew very well. Her evil smile reached her blue eyes, which had a particular shine on that summer afternoon. No death eater dared look at her. Being a member of the Dark Lord's Inner Circle had those benefits. She was also the unofficial girlfriend of one the most influential wizards in ancient and contemporary Magical Community, so none of those cowards would dare lay a finger on her. Not even their eyes. Only One of those dark wizards had done it. And just remembering made her smile with pleasure. Alice Kolberg was a beautiful woman, with her silver blond her and her fine features. Another characteristic that made her powerful was her pureblood. No muggle or squib had ever been part of her family. There was no greater honor. She was originally German, although she had lived in England for most of her adolescence. Enough time for her to determine where her loyalties lay.

She stopped in front of the door to the meeting room. She mentally made sure everything was in order before knocking softly and waiting with patience for her Lord's answer.

"Come in."

She entered the room full of black and green color. In her opinion, there was no better combination than that. Except perhaps for some red… in representation of spilled blood.

Voldemort was sitting behind his desk with his usual inexpressive and intimidating features. His attention was on a report that one of the low rank death eaters had turned in on the last movements of Gringotts. Something that the Dark Lord had not achieved was monetary control over the Magical Community. Mission that could not take long being accomplished, unless they wanted to give a small opportunity of success to Dumbledore.

She remained quiet during all that time. She had learned during her first years as death eater that insolence would take her nowhere, except to a long session of cruciatus.

"Alice, dear, take a seat." Voldemort asked, although his tone let known he would not take no for an answer… and the sweet tone he had used to talk to her was an inside joke in the Circle.

"My Lord." She greeted him, bowing and then sitting down.

"What brings you this peaceful afternoon to the area?" He asked, putting aside the report and focusing his attention on her with a malicious smile.

"I bring you my report on this year's activities at Hogwarts and… a request, my Lord."

Alice was the potions professor at Hogwarts since the death of the traitor Severus Snape, who was one of the first victims of Filldeserp at the beginning of the Dark Age. Dumbledore had always wanted her to join the Order of the Phoenix since she was a Potions Master, which was a skill highly in demand in Europe. But Alice skillfully eluded his interest, insinuating non-existent neutrality. She had a perfect excuse: the war was not in her country, and she worked at Hogwarts because of the excellent job it offered. Nothing else.

The Old Geezer was comfortable with knowing that she did not support the Dark Side…

"What kind of request?" The Dark Lord's red eyes observed her with mistrust.

"My Lord, I am sure that it has come to your attention that Draco Malfoy has been arrested by the Ministry, and that he is currently waiting to be interrogated…"

"Actually, he has already been interrogated." Voldemort interrupted. Alice was about to lose her stance, though she did not, only letting her eyes show her confusion. "The Order of the Phoenix was in charge of interrogating him before the news of his capture reached the ears of the Ministry. However, one of my trusting sources has assured me that they did not have enough time for questioning him. The questions they asked were misdirected, so they did not find out anything of importance. That is why they decided to hold another session of questioning, before sending him to prison."

"And what are your plans about it, my Lord?"

"Easy. Eliminate him. I just need to know where he is located. We know he is not at the Order's Headquarters, nor at the Ministry…"

"Could you accept my request when it is time for his elimination?" Her question was full of intense cruelty.

"And what is the request, Alice?" Voldemort said, knowing where the death eater was going.

"To make him pay for everything he has done." She answered.

"But Alice, dear… he has done nothing to you… You are the one who should pay for treason…" The Dark Lord commented mockingly.

"He will pay for dishonoring me." Her blue eyes were ice. "For not fulfilling his expectations, my Lord. For failing on a key mission for you. But above all… for not fulfilling _my_ expectations."

The only thing that Voldemort could do was laugh with pleasure to the Machiavellian mind of his subject.

* * *

That night, a house elf apparated in Hermione's chambers to inform her that both Lords were waiting for her in the dining room for dinner. She, knowing that there was no way out of it, got ready and five minutes later found herself in front of the door that separated her from them. She took a deep breath before slowly opening it and entering.

This time the large table was set for an abundant meal. By the aspect of the food, Hermione knew that it was prime quality food, and her stomach seemed rejoiced with the news. She had not eaten since noon, and it had only been a light lunch that she had requested from one of the elves. At that moment she had not been too hungry, focused as she had been on reading the books that Filldeserp had assigned. Her brain was overwhelmed by the information, and she still had a book and a half left to read… and only a few hours left.

She paid more attention to her surroundings and was surprised when she noticed Filldeserp's absence at the table. She sat down in silence on the seat set for her, next to the oddly empty chair. She patiently waited until Voldemort had finished analyzing some reports, thinking over and over about what she had read: the great characters in history, the experiments on magic, massacres… of both muggles and wizards. She had stopped several times in her reading because her crying had clouded her sight. She was afraid that such wars would repeat again, that the many innocent lives would be taken away in such a brutal way… and There, in front of her, was the transmitter of the current war. How should she react?

"Good evening, Hermione. I trust you had a nice afternoon." Voldemort said, vanishing his reports and fixing his red eyes on her.

Hermione was only able to nod with shyness.

"Filldeserp went out this afternoon on a quick mission. He will not take long in joining us."

She nodded again, but this time countless images of cruel tortures appeared in her mind, wondering what Filldeserp could be doing. She could not hold back an anxious moan, which caused the Dark Lord to look at her inquisitively, something she deliberately ignored. Despite the many years it had been since Harry's betrayal, she still had not assimilated the idea… much less now that she was coexisting with the two most powerful (and dark) wizards at the time, when she constantly breathed air full of a smell that could only come from Cruelty and Death.

Why had Harry agreed to be part of it? How had the innocent, brave, and carefree boy arrived to such reality? To transform into the heir of such Evil kingdom?

Perhaps she should pay attention to Filldeserp… perhaps she should stop thinking of the past, to assimilate the idea that the Harry she had once met, had died, and that nothing was left of him… Only a being that had inevitably similar features.

"What did you think of your lessons today?"

If she had not been in a reality so upsetting and authoritarian, Hermione would have been offended to the careful tone Voldemort had used, or perhaps she would have laughed because of the irony. It made her imagine a father asking the same thing to his small child. Shame there was not even a distant connection between both situations, and that in reality the Dark Lord's question had a double meaning… just as every damn question the bastard asked.

"Interesting." She simply said, with her eyes set on an elegant painting on the wall.

During the silence that followed her answer, she could feel Voldemort's eyes analyzing her frivolously. She shuddered. She knew she was completely vulnerable to Legillimency attacks. Actually, she knew that the Dark Lord could guess any of her thoughts after the torture she had suffered the night before. Just remembering made her feel weaker and cornered… that feeling… knowing that death was near, that there was no way to avoid it…

Now the situation was perhaps worse. She was being manipulated by two sinister minds, which every day advanced further on their plan of destroying the magical world. What role could she play in all their games?

"It is a nice painting, is it not?"

Hermione was startled and looked at Voldemort not understanding what he was referring too, until she remembered she had been pretending to admire the painting in front of her. And yes, now that she observed it, she had to admit it was beautiful. So beautiful she did not know what it was doing in the Fortress of the Dark Order.

A painting of unicorns. Free, with colors so alive… so pure. They were surrounded by welcoming vegetation that almost made her able to smell the fresh air. How fond was Voldemort of sarcasm to place in his dining room such painting? It was an element worthy of Dumbledore's office, or of someone from the side of the light, but… Voldemort?

"Wouldn't a painting of snakes be more adequate?" The words came out of her mouth automatically, without her thinking them first.

"But, Hermione…" He answered with a sweet voice. "Do you not appreciate such valuable criatures, perhaps the key immortality? Those beings that may seem so white… but are actually so neutral? They support Life, do they not?

"It still makes no sense." She answered back.

"Of course it does not." Voldemort smiled. "Where would the fun be if it did? I just do not think that the dining room is a place for agony… but for a little tranquility. Do you not agree?"

She was not in the mood to argue with the Dark Lord and his ideas on how it was best to decorate his home, so she did not respond. It was not necessary, as in that same moment the door of the dining room silently opened and from it entered Filldeserp, with his typical serene and cold expression. Hermione could not help notice how skillful Voldemort's heir was, as he entered the room without making any noise. It stood out that he often went on spying missions… He was a real expert on the subject.

"Filldeserp." Voldemort said with a knowing smile.

"My Lord." Harry made a slight bow before sitting next to Hermione, not even laying his eyes on her, something that strongly upsetted her.

"Do you not greet your protégée?" Voldemort mocked him. Filldeserp smiled in response.

"How rude of me." His words were empty of shame.

He slowly leaned toward Hermione and, to her surprise, took her right hand and kissed her with gentlemanliness. Her cheeks took some color and she turned her eyes instinctively. That situation felt wrong… Very wrong.

"How about we begin with dinner?" Voldemort, who seemed greatly amused by the scene, suggested. Fillseserp nodded, but Hermione was not able to do so.

During the first few minutes, they ate in silence and Hermione was infinitely thankful. She was able to calm herself and at least slightly clear her mind of all her problems, the terrible books she was reading, and of the two Dark Lords present. She focused on her own world, where nothing could hurt her… except Reality.

"How was the mission?" Voldemort asked.

"Very well." Filldeserp answered. "Even if the death eaters made the same mistakes as usual, it was nothing that could not be fixed. The spread is being done successfully." Voldemort smiled satisfied before continuing.

"I have found the location of… Malfoy's prison." Filldeserp raised both of his eyebrows, very interested on the news.

"Oh, really?"

"Alice took care of finding him for us." He said with a cruel smile. "Will you be available tomorrow, Filldeserp?"

Because of the tone which he used, Hermione imagined he was actually asking him, and not just demanding his availability. However, knowing Voldemort as she knew him, she knew it was merely an indirect order.

"You know that for Malfoy I am always available, Tom." Harry laughed, leaving formality on the side.

Hermione felt more uncomfortable as the conversation went. The manner between both Lords, as she had noticed with not many details during breakfast, was too personal. They really… appeared to be like father and son. Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter… who would have thought that the story would end like that?

"Perfect. Though this time, I would prefer you were not alone. It is one of the most dangerous enemy territories, and we are not in condition to suffer any more loses."

"Of course. Nagini will come with me." Filldeserp nodded; nevertheless, Voldemort shook his head with a mysterious smile on his lips.

"You can take Nagini, obviously, but… I think some action would do well for you protégée, would it not? And she would also learn our strategies in cases like this…"

A knife fell to the floor, making a noise that abruptly cut the silence. Hermione's hands were shaking while she looked terrified at Voldemort and Filldeserp. The first seemed to be rejoiced by her terror, and the second was deliberately ignoring her, with his gaze set on his mentor, as if trying to decipher something invisible on his unemotional face.

Her? On a torture mission?

"No." Hermione shook her head stubbornly. "I won't go."

"And who said you could decide?" Filldeserp asked, setting his green eyes on her, with a force that stunned her and instantly broke her.

She could hear buzzing in her ears, the screams of the victims of such Cause. She could smell the blood, running through poisoned bodies… Would she be capable of staining her innocent hands with their blood? Could she carry the guilt of being the cause of their suffering? However, she had no choice. They were manipulating her… and she had no way of escaping. Even if she eternally carried the guilt of her actions, she had to do it. She knew they would not give her death, as instead of punishment it would be a reward. She would be forced to watch… to be a protagonist of such horrendous moments… until they broke her.

Weeks before, she had killed death eaters. But they were not the same circumstances. At that moment, she had a different perspective of the world. Now… everything seemed so confusing. It escaped her understanding. What purpose did it serve the Dark Order that she went with Filldeserp? How could it be useful?

"NO! I won't go!" She tried to stand up and run away, but Filldeserp had decided to stop ignoring her.

His eyes flashed and she could almost see an angry fire in them. With disturbing speed, he turned to her and grabbed her arm, stopping her with roughness, and pulling her toward him. He grabbed her with such strength that Hermione felt a sharp pain on her arm. She closed her eyes, trying not to remember what had happened that morning; trying not to repeat the same embarrassing scene.

"It is the last time that I will tolerate your misbehaviour." Filldeserp whispered on her ear. She could taste the poison in his voice. "You will come and, for your own good, I hope you will not be a bother."

When he let go of her, she could not stop herself from falling down. She had felt too close Filldeserp's turmoil… on two occasions on the same day. She did not want it to happen again, but she felt overwhelmed. All her problems, the history books she had been reading, those images of horror, her own broken ideologies, the manner between the two people who were the main characters of the chaos in the current Magical Community… All her desperation, her impotence, her pain… had filled her tolerance. Too many things kept inside of her… And at that moment, the prison of her emotions opened, asking permission from her, which in her disturbance, she gave.

A flash of power came up suddenly from inside of her. It made her momentarily forget her Reality, made her sleep in a world where none of her worries existed. Such delicious power… because there was no need to deny it, it was pleasant, and it helped her calm herself. But at the same time, for the first time in her life, she made known the power hidden inside of her.

Gusts of wind shook the large windows in the dining room. In an act of reflex, Filldeserp conjured a shield that protected him and Voldemort from the violent wind that appeared to focus on Hermione, surrounding her and shielding her. It had been some time since Filldeserp last had seen an inexperienced elemental displaying their power and he had almost forgotten how intimidating that could be. An unusual power in their time that allowed them to dominate something beyond ordinary: Nature itself. Only one thing could save Hermione from being consumed by her own power, and that was another elemental.

He frowned while he increased the power on the shield. He knew Voldemort was next to him, waiting to see what he would do and trusting his judgment and power, so he did not bother asking him how to proceed. He knew it already. He observed the wind that 'dominated' Hermione for a moment and then clapped, producing a dry sound. Immediately, flames went through his shield and reached Hermione, going through the gusts of wind. Just touching her, all her power vanished. The same thing happened to the fire. Calm reigned again.

"It would be best if you treat that burn you caused her, Filldeserp." Voldemort suggested with his eyes shining in a particular way that Harry knew had something to do with his mind formulating a clever plan.

"Did you know about _this_?" Filldeserp asked. Voldemort shook his head, smiling.

"Fate is very interesting, is it not, Harry?

However, the young man did not give an answer; he just took Hermione on his arms and left the dining room, dinner completely forgotten.

* * *

Silence had been reigning in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix for several days. Albus had called most members to a meeting where they would discuss the main and most urgent issues, like Malfoy's declaration and the current standing of the investigation on Hermione's kidnapping.

Neville and Ron had barely spoken in days. Their closest friends were extremely worried because of their reactions to Granger's absence, but the Order did not comment anything about it as both aurors were working twice as hard in their activities against death eaters, and that exceedingly helped, even if the cost was high.

Dumbledore sat at the head of the table when all the members were on their seats. All eyes were heavily on him.

"Good afternoon. Let us begin with the meeting."

Those words had been repeated too much lately. Meetings of the Order were called constantly because of a need of organization. The Dark Order was back in action after a few months of relative peace, and anxiety was back in the hearts of the members of the Magical Community. Fear reawakened after Filldeserp's public appearance, reminding them of his stance as Voldemort's heir… and who had clearly being training hard all that time. They did not know exactly the limits of his power, but Dumbledore suspected that if he had not surpassed Voldemort, he was close to doing so.

And that worried him. He could fight one Dark Lord, but two together… and with such connection, it exceeded his ability. That was why the Order was looking for more members, and preferably, capable of fighting the threat hanging over them. Although, personally, the Hogwarts headmaster looked with hope at Neville Longbottom, the second option of the prophecy. Since the attack at Diagon Alley and Hermione's kidnap, Neville's progress in the training that the Order provided daily for its members was clearly obvious.

Although another interesting case was his friend Ron. Ronald Weasley, son of two great members of the Order, and brother of great influences in current society. He was a great influence himself, being a member of the Fantastic Trio of Aurors… and previous best friend of the traitor, Harry Potter. He and Hermione, the only close witnesses of the complete change his friend had. The curious thing about him was not his intense desire for revenge, or the constant change of mood he experienced, but how he was capable of focusing on the most daring situations and finding the most relevant solution for his interests and those of the Order. It was disconcerting how he could go from being totally impulsive to having a cool head, which could evaluate the situation with indifference, as if they were not dealing with an actual or real war… as if he was not worried about the lives he was using.

"There are many issues for us to discuss today, but mainly we need to focus on the statement given by Draco Malfoy, the death eater captured by Neville last night.

"During the investigation done after Cornfoot's murder, Malfoy was interrogated and given Veritaserum. I personally asked him if he was a death eater and he deliberately denied it, which confirms that Voldemort has found a way to overcome the truth serum."

"How did you get Malfoy to give a statement then? No death eater tends to willingly talk." Tonks asked.

"Malfoy accepted to share certain information if we did not take him to the ministry prison, where he knows Filldeserp (who we now know was Cornfoot's murder) can enter and kill him. He has requested better security, which surprised us as… if he did not declared he might be saved by Voldemort, instead of being murdered by him." Neville informed.

"Which makes us doubt his words." Ron reasoned. "If the potion and truth charms do not work on him… he could be given false information to lead us to a wrong clue."

"That is correct." Dumbledore nodded.

"He listed several names from high rank death eaters, although none that we were not suspicious of before." Neville began sharing. "He told us that the plan with respect to Hermione was to merely kill her, and nothing more. He wanted to give us some information on future plans of the Lord, but there are certain secrecy spells on him that did not allow him, so we need to break those… and wait until the declaration in the Ministry."

"We need to make sure that Malfoy survives until then, and that he is able to give us important information." Dumbledore pointed out.

"And what if he doesn't?" Kingsley asked.

"We will be left with nothing." Neville answered with concern. "And we can't let that happen. We can't let one person with such vital information escape from our grasp. Hermione's life depends on this…" A short silence followed his words.

"And where will we take Malfoy?"

"He will be kept in the safest place we have under out protection… I have already chosen it."

"Headquarters?" Ron asked.

"No. Something better…"

Hogwarts.

* * *

_August 11th, 2004_

_Time: 1:00AM_

It was a cold night, terribly cold. The waning moon shined over the grounds, accompanied by dense clouds that darkened the stars in the sky. In the forest reigned a disturbing peace. The graze of the wind on the grounds could be easily heard, but the animals that inhabited the area appeared to have disappeared. Or perhaps they had decided to hide from the Threat hanging over the castle.

Yes, the castle. It was still there, in front of him, as imposing as always; with its singular magic surrounding it. It was also as false and full of illusions. It was a vessel of lost hopes, of a youth without future… the place that many adolescents considered their second home, or in his case, his only home. How naïve he had been then to let himself be caught in stupid beliefs, on such promises of tranquility and happiness. However, what else could he have believed in? The Dursleys? Perhaps he should have listened to them when he turned eleven and should not have accepted his place at Hogwarts. He should not have accepted his place in the Magical World, should have rejected his responsibilities, lived as a muggle…

Hogwarts had not changed. And it should not have. It was still under the care of the same headmaster. Albus Dumbledore, the same insufferable old geezer who had so many faces. With those damn twinkling blue eyes that at first seemed so charming. And he did not doubt it. After all, where would Dumbledore be without his charm and power? He would have never risen so high. Although, he would not deny that he was a smart old geezer, or that he had been brilliant in his youth. Those were facts that not even Lord Voldemort would deny. But that did not mean that he was the best person to lead the beliefs of the Light. Not like there were many options.

However, it was not the moment to think over such matters. It had been years since he had made his choice, and he had never regretted it. Lord Voldemort had given him more things in his life than Dumbledore ever had. And perhaps it was then one would understand how he could face the memories that appeared on his mind whenever he was at the place where everything had begun… and where his past had been buried.

Next to him was a trembling Hermione. She seemed to also be reliving such memories, although Filldeserp was sure that at some point, during those six years, the young woman had returned to the castle. Nevertheless, it was one of the first times Filldeserp returned. And by his expression, he was indifferent to the fact.

"_Tom has crazy ideas. And I am afraid to say, every day they seem to get worse._" Nagini hissed. Filldeserp smirked.

"_You are lucky he is not here to hear you say that, Nag. But given the case, we both know that despite his insanity… he is a genius._"

"_I will only admit it and accept it when Dumbledore does._"

"_You will not have to wait long for that, Nag._" If she had been able, the snake would have laughed.

"_What are you planning to do about the Granger girl? She will be a complete nuisance._"

"_If it was not because I know you, I would say you seem jealous by the presence of another female in the mission._"

"_It has always been you and me! You cannot deny me some possessiveness over the so called Heir of Voldemort, can you?_"

"_I would not dare._"

"_Good to know._"

Despite her threatening appearance, Nagini was not a snake as frivolous as many assumed. Even if at the time of action on a mission it was better to avoid her path, she was an extremely clever and perceptive snake. Her scales were black as dark as night, except at some parts where a dark green mixed with it. She was of great size and, despite of that, great agility. Her eyes were yellow, a cold yellow that made anyone who dared look at her shiver.

"_This will be a fun night._" Nagini hissed with real joy in her voice.

"_Of course it will be, beautiful. Tonight will be the night when Draco Malfoy will learn that he should have never crossed paths with me_." The snake slithered with more speed on the ground, very excited.

"_How I wish I could see it…!_"

Hermione felt deliberately ignored. And she had plenty of reasons for it. Not only did Filldeserp not seem worried or acknowledged her presence, but he was also speaking parseltongue (a language she definitely did not understand) with a snake she knew did not really like her. Besides, they were walking calmly on the grounds around the edges of the forbidden forest, as if he was waiting some sort of signal or _something_ that would allow them entrance. If anyone asked Hermione, she could not wait for that ill-fated night to be over.

She was back at Hogwarts. There again… with Harry, but not in the way she had imagined years before. Hogwarts did not seem so welcoming anymore. Not when she was fighting so many painful memories, so many moments that she needed to forget if she wanted to survive with her sanity intact. She remembered herself when she was twelve, discussing with her recent friends Ron and Harry how interesting classes were, wearing Gryffindor colors with pride, not completely understanding why she belonged in that house. Later she understood. She remembered herself when she was fourteen, fighting with Ron about any stupid thing and trying to be Harry's conscience during those dangerous times, with the hanging threat of Sirius Black over her friend…

Sirius… What would Sirius say if he saw his godson? What would he say when seeing the son of his best friend turned into a killer? Maybe, seeing him from another point of view, it was good that Sirius was death, because if he had not, he would die again.

She wished she could cry, but she did not have any more tears to shed. She had cried enough that day. More than in her entire life, she felt.

Filldeserp stopped and Hermione almost tripped on him in her trance. They had over them charms that prevented them from being seen, heard, tracked, or felt, among many other kinds of spells. Filldeserp had told her that he frequently did not apply on himself so many spells since they lowered his magical power while under them, but he had made an exception for her on that occasion. Nagini, as Hermione understood, had its own method of invisibility. Not that it comforted her.

Voldemort's heir watched with calm how the big doors of the castle opened extremely slowly, or so Hermione thought, as for her every second intensified her anxiety. A soft light shined over the area around the entrance and a dark figure came out of the castle. To Hermione's astonishment, Filldeserp walked toward the figure. As they got closer the young Gryffindor girl began distinguishing the traits of the person they were meeting.

She was a woman wearing elegant black robes, and with her silver long hair falling gracefully over her shoulders. Even in the dark of the night and with barely any light, Hermione could see her blue eyes, with a death glow on them. Her gaze was so challenging that it made Granger shiver.

"My Lord." She whispered when Filldeserp, Hermione, and Nagini were close to her.

"Good evening, Alice." Filldeserp greeted her with a polite smile.

"Up until now everything is working out, my Lord. Dumbledore does not suspect anything."

"Excellent work, Alice. Always so helpful." He said with a smile. Alice returned the smile with her eyes flashing with excitement.

"Pardon my interruption, my Lord, who is the woman who accompanies you? I don't remember ever seeing her at a meeting…"

Despite the politeness in her words, Hermione noticed certain aversion toward her. She wondered why, as she did not remember ever crossing paths with Alice, although her face seemed familiar… but it was impossible for them to know each other. Then, why did the pale face of the death eater seem so angry?

"Although she kind of reminds me of…" Alice continued, however, she stopped to observe Filldeserp's face, which as usual did not show much, not even enough to try to guess what he was thinking. "But it can't be…"

"It was the wish of the Lord to keep her alive." Filldeserp said coldly. Her blue eyes showed the surprise the news caused.

"But she's a mudblood!"

"It will be better if Tom does not hear you criticizing his decisions." Filldeserp muttered, although his tone was less threatening than expected. The death eater kept silent, although she did not lower her gaze as a sign of regret at any point.

Filldeserp walked to her until he was only a few inches from her. With seductive skill he caressed Alice's cheek, who blushed with arrogance to the gesture. Hermione, the only witness of the scene, frowned, not understanding the exchange between Harry and the death eater. Next to her, Nagini hissed with anger, trying to recover Filldeserp's attention, but he ignored her, too entertained on whispering some words on Alice's ear.

The death eater's soft giggle gave Hermione the creeps, and she could not stop watching how familiar they were to each other. She almost felt jealous seeing how a woman seemed to be getting Harry's attentions, and that such woman was not her. Nothing similar had ever happened while at Hogwarts. After the Cho Chang fiasco, Harry had never gone out with another girl, making Hermione his only female companion. Perhaps she had thought it would continue that way, after six years… But Filldeserp, being Voldemort's heir, would obviously have plenty of pureblood women after him. Why would he choose her?

She immediately put aside such thought. What the hell was she thinking?!

"It would be better if you continue your mission, my Lord, before Dumbledore realizes the disruption in the barriers." Alice whispered against her instincts. Filldeserp only nodded, retaking sensible distance between them.

"_The mission, Harry_!"

"_I heard you, Nagini_."

"_It does not seem like it_."

"_Always ruining my fun…_"

"_You know how I feel about that_."

"_Do not get too angry. Otherwise, you will not have how to release it_."

"_If you do not start moving, it will be with you_." Filldeserp laughed after the words of her friend.

"You need to continue your rounds, Alice, or someone will get suspicious." Filldeserp suggested before walking again toward the doors of the castle.

Nagini and Alice followed him, but Hermione remained on her spot, considering everything she had just seen.

"Is there a problem Granger?" Asked the death eater mockingly, turning to her. Remembering where she was, Hermione shook her head and followed her, noticing the angry look Alice gave her.

* * *

Accepting Filldeserp's suggestion, Alice went back to her rounds as Hogwarts professor, to reduce any suspicion on her person when the corpse of Draco Malfoy was discovered. Meanwhile, Nagini and Filldeserp had set their infiltration plan in motion, deciding to separate in two teams. Filldeserp and Hermione would take care of Malfoy's death, while Nagini would insure there were no interruptions, and if there were, to eliminate them.

Thus, Hermione found herself walking the empty hallways with Filldeserp. They ran less of a risk since the students were on vacation, and fewer professors remained at the castle. Although, Filldeserp knew well there were at least a dozen aurors patrolling, trying to protect the death eater from possible revenge. Hermione had to admit that their efforts would be in vain. After seeing Harry fight in Diagon Alley, she was sure that not even a dozen professional aurors together could stop him, even less with Nagini covering his back.

"Where is Malfoy?" Hermione whispered, not completely sure if she had done right by speaking. However, with a short warning look from Filldeserp, she knew she could, though with discretion.

"He is in one of the most inaccessible dungeons in the castle." He answered.

"Have you ever… been there?" Filldeserp raised an eyebrow skeptically to her question.

"Obviously. I was the one in charge of registering every corner of Hogwarts at one point."

"What for?" She asked with authentic curiosity. He smiled mysteriously.

"To create an improved Marauder's map."

In the seconds that followed his statement, Hermione tried to guess whether Filldeserp was joking or if he had spoken the truth. After all, a map with such characteristics would be extremely useful for Voldemort to keep an eye on his enemies, besides creating plans of attack without the need of great research. In reality, it would not surprise Hermione if the Dark Order had maps like that of the Ministry, Saint Mungo's, Diagon Alley, and places with similar importance for the Magical Community. It would explain the knowledge Voldemort possessed before his spies informed him. It was even a way to make sure the death eaters were telling the truth.

For several minutes they walked through the dungeons, walking deeper inside of Hogwarts. Hermione had never set foot so deep inside the castle. Those areas seemed deliberately forgotten… not even the house elves seemed to worry about cleaning a little. All the torches were extinguished and rusted. No light could get in through the small cracks high on the walls. She could see her way thanks to the _lumos_ that Filldeserp kept. Otherwise, Darkness would be thorough.

They stopped in front of a door that, at first glance, Hermione could tell it had recently been installed; otherwise it would be as damaged as the rest of the doors in the hallway. She could feel the presence of several security spells; nonetheless, she was sure that they would be a joke for Filldeserp. She could see it in his eyes.

"_All according to plan_." Filldeserp hissed in parseltongue and only then Hermione realized that Nagini had been behind her the entire time.

"_Understood_."

Voldemort's heir took a deep breath before focusing his magic on his hands, which he firmly placed on the door's surface. For an instant they were blinded by a white light which was followed by a loud 'crack.' The door obediently gave in, creaking the entire time. With a slight nod from Filldeserp, Hermione entered, followed by him. Right after, the door closed again with magic, although this time with darker and more rigorous spells.

_Nagini remained on the other side, keeping watch._

Filldeserp snapped his fingers with elegance and immediately all the torches lighted with an intense blue flame, allowing them to see inside the dungeon. However, Hermione would have preferred not to, as the view was unpleasant. Hundreds of rats were walking all over the walls, accompanied by spider webs. The smell coming from the place was disgusting. And among all that terrible view, in the middle of the dungeon, was sitting with his usual arrogant stance, Draco Malfoy.

His aspect was definitely not the same from the week before. However, after being inside that place for a couple of days, Hermione admired that he was still sane, or able to show the arrogance that had led him to his fall. His blond hair was dirty and lacking of shine and the same was the case with his fancy clothes, which were ripped in many places. His appearance barely resembled his ego.

"Draco. I trust you had a nice and entertaining stay in the castle." Filldeserp greeted him, indifferent to his appearance.

"Of course, my Lord. I had never been so well attended or slept surrounded by so many luxuries." Draco answered, his vengeful grey eyes staring at his speaker.

"I am pleased to hear that. I have always admired Dumbledore's generosity toward his guests. Or well, his prisoners…"

"Stop making fun of me, Filldeserp." Malfoy threatened, trying to stand up, but the magical handcuffs stopped him, aside from the barriers Filldeserp had set previously around him. "Everything is your fault. I swear you will pay for it."

"Oh, really?" He asked with a casual tone. "And could you explain how you are going to fulfill that promise once you are death?"

"You are killing me?" Draco challenged, raising an eyebrow.

"Take it for a Fact." Harry gave him a wicked smile. "After all, I have a promise to keep to a lady."

"What promise?"

"Alice. I am sure you know her, right? She is a death eater well placed in the inner circle. Besides having a seductive figure… Those are notorious characteristics…"

"What about her?" Draco asked, narrowing his eyes.

"She is a charming woman, don't you think? It makes her even more tempting…"

"I am not a pathetic Gryffindor. I will not fall so easily in your games, Filldeserp."

"You think this is a game? Has Alice ever told you about her '_games_'… when she entered the Dark Order?"

"What are you talking about?"

Hermione went pale as the conversation kept going. Her sharp mind put the pieces of the puzzle together and she felt her heart falling to the ground. It could not be…

"Your dear Alice, Draco, was never really interested in you." Harry smiled. "Although I think you are aware of that. But what you do not know is that she sold you. She sold your location just for a higher rank…. Have you ever wondered why she has always wanted to stand out so much? To satisfy the Lord so much?"

"She is a death eater loyal to the Lord." Draco muttered. "There is no other reason." Filldeserp's eyes shined with delight.

"Have you ever kissed every inch of her white skin to the point of feeling her completely yours?" Malfoy's usually pale cheeks turned a bright red color of mortal anger toward Filldeserp.

"You…"

"You are a Traitor, Malfoy. You should have followed Alice's example…"

"What about the mudblood you are _escorting_? Why is she still _alive_?" Malfoy interrupted him. Perhaps looking for some time, or because he was truly interested in the answer.

"That is none of your business during this critical time in your life, Malfoy."

"Of course it is my business. She and you are guilty for my being here today. How can the Lord allow an impure person like _this_ to live and not forgive a small _indiscretion_ from one of his most loyal death eaters?"

"Maybe because this _impure_ person has more to offer than this _loyal_ death eater." Filldeserp answered, as if it was a universal truth.

"Allow me to doubt that."

Hermione did not know what stance to take on the dialogue centered on her. On one side, she could choose indignation, after all, Malfoy was judging her as useless and she was everything but that. She could also be indifferent as… she should not care whether Malfoy or Filldeserp thought of her useful or not. She was only a prisoner, and she had to do what she was told, did she not? But… why would she, an auror that her entire life had been against the ideals of the Dark Lord, be allowed to live? What could she bring to the Cause?

However, she knew she did not feel like that, but happy. Filldeserp had just defended her. Subtly, perhaps without intending to, but he had done so. He might not have used warm words, but there he was, in front of her… not allowing Malfoy to completely degrade her. And her dim mind associated that image with the old Harry, who would impulsively jump to her defense every time a Slytherin called her a mudblood…

"I normally would not, but… since it is your last wish… now, the sentence. We need to do it as if it was legal, right?" Filldeserp said, and after that he took a posture of sarcastic solemnity. "For releasing substantial information, cooperating with the enemy to your convenience, betraying the Dark Lord and the pact you had sealed with him; you are condemned to a slow and painful death. A death that you will wish you never had. It has been a real annoyance meeting you."

* * *

Meanwhile, the prestigious Hogwarts headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, was sitting behind his desk, going over some reports that one of his aurors had recently sent him about one of the most important missions the Order was doing at that time. During his reading of the long pages with essential information, he was playing with a lemon drop with his fingers. When he finished reading and was about to eat the candy to ponder over the new information, the alarms went off.

_The lemon drop fell to the floor and broke, scattering in small pieces._

Dumbledore immediately stood up and simultaneously, the door opened and through it entered Neville Longbottom, one of the aurors who had been patrolling the castle that night. He seemed pale and agitated.

"The alarms went off. Did something happen?" Albus asked with urgency.

"We have not seen anything. But… if the alarms went off…" Neville answered nervously.

"I will call Headquarters for reinforcements. We cannot do anything against him on our own…" The headmaster determined, walking toward one of the instruments hanging on the wall that would allow him to communicate with the Base.

"How do you know it's _him_?"

"Who else could know Hogwarts so well to avoid all the guards… and letting the alarms go off?"

"Albus…? Do you think… he did it on purpose…?"

"I am certain of it." Once he asked for reinforcements, Albus turned to Neville, and after a tired sigh, he said: "Let us go."

* * *

Filldeserp distanced himself a couple of steps from Draco and extended the isolation barriers, not giving him time to react to the provocation. He then snapped his fingers and to his command, all the rats that Hermione had been horrified of after entering the dungeon moved toward Malfoy, able to enter the barrier. The young woman was then able to understand the purpose of the barrier: entrance but no exit.

Malfoy, sitting without a choice on a chair similar to those used for trials at the Ministry, watched with horror how each one of those creatures reached him and climbed the chair at a terrifying speed. Their tiny eyes were red, bloody red, an effect of the control Filldeserp had over them. They shined with hunger. Hunger that would be satisfied with Draco's flesh. He would be eaten alive.

Hermione gasped when the first rats began boring into the death eater's legs. Draco, despite his enormous effort, could not help but moan in pain. A pain that increased every second, and that greatly pleased Filldeserp.

The first drop of blood was spilled. And it would not be the last on that night.

Making grotesque noise, the rats began delving into his skin, not only on his legs, but also on his arms. Draco's painful moans evolved into screams and he lost control of his body, beginning to convulse. He fought, kicked, begged, but the rats did not give in, and neither did Filldeserp.

"Draco, my Little and Prideful colleague. Do you see how being the Dark Lord's protégé does mean that I am better than _you_? I bet you are not bored anymore… but just in case, it would be better if I intensify the fun, would it not?"

Filldeserp's merciless words froze Hermione's blood. They were full of immeasurable hate, of indescribable satisfaction… and of a cruelty that she never thought would be possible in him. Hermione remembered the fights Draco and Harry had throughout their time at Hogwarts. She remembered them very well. But she never, ever imagined that they would both be consumed in such destructive hatred. So blind. And she cried, she really cried for their souls.

The rats stopped digging and they began eating. Slowly, enjoying every bite of the delicious flesh, of the flavorful blood. And between every bite, Draco's screams could be heard, though only for those inside the room. And there was nobody there who could stop it… Nobody… except for her.

"Stop! Stop them, please!" Hermione begged running to Filldeserp and holding herself to his left arm.

He lowered his gaze until he met hers and hit her so hard she fell to the floor on her face. Weeping, she turned and slowly tried to stand up.

"Stop it, Harry! Why are you doing this? Kill him, have some mercy!"

"Are you not one of the people who defend the lives of others, Mione?" Filldeserp asked completely calm.

"Death is better than all this suffering!" She yelled.

"It is the Price that traitors must pay, Mione." Harry explained with shocking insensitivity.

"Don't call me that! You… you… are a _monster_."

_You talk as if you were not part of humanity, Harry._

"What else is new, _Mione_?"

Hermione stood up completely, angry, and threw herself at him, willing to hit him with all her strength. She did not measure her abilities, nor against who she was charging. She only followed the impulse worthy of a Gryffindor, and attacked.

But this time, Filldeserp had lost his patience. He took Hermione's arms and held her with force, causing superficial wounds on her wrists. He then threw her again to the floor and pointed his wand in her direction.

"What did we say about your behaviour? _Crucio_!"

Hermione had experienced many _cruciatus_ in her life; however, it had never been as intense as that one. She could feel all the hatred, the thirst for revenge… all of Filldeserp's pain and anger focused on her body, hurting her, piercing her, shaking her… and torturing her. And, at the same time, she could see his dark green eyes crying deep down… slowly dying.

_You aren't cold anymore, right?_

Tears covered the face of the young woman; lonely tears that were not dried by anyone.

* * *

Twenty aurors, plus Dumbledore and some professors who were staying at Hogwarts, being one of them Kolberg, followed a strategy to surround Malfoy's cell, which was the place where the intrusion had been detected. They did it with absolute care so there would not be any way for escaping, and they were slowly approaching the cell until the main group, which included Dumbledore and Neville, found itself at the entrance of the cell. There was only one obstacle in their way… _Nagini_.

All the aurors pulled out their wands and pointed at the temperamental snake, who hissed with excitement and slightly leaned toward them, causing the weaker and more nervous aurors to take a couple of steps back. Others lost control and began throwing spells in every direction, though none had an effect on Nagini. Her scales had a special property that protected her from offensive magic; ideal for a predator snake.

The aurors who kept their judgment turned to Dumbledore, waiting for directions.

"What can we do?"

"We have no other option but to take it out of the way in order to access the cell." Dumbledore said. "It does not matter how, knock her out."

However, Nagini had other plans in mind. If she could have smiled, those humans would have seen the most evil smirk a living creature could express, and much more.

"_Tom will be so pleased with me. Although I think he will envy me because I will do what he could not in all these years. If only Harry could see this…!"_

And hissing more incomprehensible words for the aurors, she slithered on the floor, getting as faster and close to them as possible. Some cowards decided they rather live than be useful to the Cause they were defending, and ran away from there. Others held their wands, ready to defeat her. But the rest remained in silence, not knowing what to do.

"_How pathetic. How I would love to eat them! But I think that will get me indigestion… And I do not want that, do I?"_

Her hissing caused more aurors to run away, although this time some preferred to slightly conceal it and slowly took steps back. But Neville continued at the front, with his brown eyes set on her and analyzing each one of her moves, thinking he could predict them like Filldeserp had done weeks before with him.

"_You still have a long way before catching up to Filldeserp, darling. Actually, he is unreachable for you._"

If only she could laugh…

* * *

Smirking, Filldeserp walked toward Draco, crossing the barrier. The blond had already lost a leg and an arm, and was about to lose his other two limbs. The rats were now going for his face. He was barely conscious, closer to death than anything else. To their leader's command, the rats stopped their meal for a few minutes; the last minutes before being allowed to finish.

"Eaten by rats… this must be _eating_ your pride, is it not, Draco?" Filldeserp whispered on his right ear.

The death eater remained with his eyes closed, breathing with difficulty and cursing Filldeserp in his head, among all the pain clouding his sanity. He had lost track of his body and reality, the only way he had managed to stay sane and with life until then. He had been under torture for half an hour, even if he did not know it. He was bleeding to death, and it hurt; it really did.

"Too bad your path ends here today. You could have become someone powerful, you know? Pity you chose pride over what was better. You were consumed by your own greed. There are things that go beyond your interests, Draco. For example, the interests of your Lord. But it is too late for that. It is too late to fix your disloyalty. Is your promise still standing?"

Malfoy could only nod; he had lost his voice screaming. But at least, he could express his will. Filldeserp smirked at him.

"I will see you in hell, little Draco."

And Voldemort's heir gave the last order to the rats, giving them as a present the rest of the body. He only kept one part of the death eater.

_His heart._

* * *

Nagini had been playing with the aurors for over fifteen minutes. She was having a lot of fun with them. She had hurt some, and killed others. She had decorated the hallways of the dungeon with great amounts of fresh blood. From her point of view, it went perfect with the black on the walls. However, she was getting bored. Those humans were too predictable. There were only two people who deserved her interest and they continued standing, they would be her last victims before her grand exit.

The problem was that she did not have much time left and she needed to finish the quickly. She had on her favor that there were not many on her way, so she had free way to do what she wanted with them and there would not be anyone to defend them. That idea excited her more.

"_Longbottom. Victim number 21 in the month of august._"

The boy was agile, she could not deny it. But she had trained all those years to the limit with Filldeserp, so his speed was nothing in comparison to what she was used to. He had great knowledge of white magic, but nothing too impressing. What did Dumbledore see in that auror to name him the hero who could replace the void Harry Potter had left on the Magical Community?

Greatly disappointed with Longbottom after three minutes of fighting, she gave him an almost deathly hit on the kidneys with her hard tail, crushing him against the opposite wall. He fell to the ground, unconscious.

"_Dumbledore. Victim number 22 in the month of august._"

If she had been disappointed by Longbottom, she certainly did not think the same of Dumbledore. The old geezer in his best time had definitely been a worthy rival of Voldemort, and despite having lost some skill with the passing of years, she could still tell his expertise in some of his movements. His knowledge of magic was varied and accurate, and his movements were slow though well thought. She had always understood the reason why Voldemort did not underestimate Dumbledore, and she understood it better now.

She did not have much time, so against her wishes, she decided to hurry the fight, slowing Dumbledore down even more by wrapping herself around him.

Finally, Nagini pierced her very poisonous fangs into the skin of the veteran professor, letting the poison enter his veins.

"_Check mate_."


End file.
